At All Costs
by Imorgen
Summary: Secure in his guardianship of Rose Potter, Severus Snape had hoped for a tranquil year. But, that hope is quickly dashed by rising tensions in the wizarding world. Can he successfully protect the Girl-Who-Lived as she is tested as never before? And, what might be the cost? A sequel to From Friend and Foe Alike An AU, Girl Harry story told through Snape's point of view
1. A Matter of Time

**Author's Notes** – Hi! If you're trying to read this story without reading From Friend and Foe Alike first, you may be in for a bumpy ride. A note of caution: this is a sequel to a girl Harry story (the girl being Rose Potter) that is written from Severus Snape's point of view. It is definitely AU.

For everyone who's been waiting for the update, thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favorites! It took me a while to decide exactly where I wanted this story to go, but the year is now sketched out, and I plan on keeping to my once a week posting schedule. Of course I don't own any part of the Harry Potter stories, but it's fun to play in the sandbox.

As always, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

As Severus Snape inventoried Potions ingredients at the end of another school year, he abruptly recalled that one year ago to the day, his life had been forever altered. He had gone to bed that evening an embittered, resentful man, exactly as he had for the past twelve years. Then, a seemingly impossible vision had challenged his perception of reality and set him on a path even in his wildest dreams he could have never foreseen.

That fateful night he'd raced to Surrey to protect Rose Potter from a nebulous threat, although his feelings for the girl had bordered on open hostility. He had long blamed the child for Lily's death even as he acknowledged his own culpability. Worse, his resentment of James Potter had twisted his perceptions of the girl until he saw nothing but a spoiled brat who arrogantly believed herself to be above the rules.

How wrong he'd been. He'd arrived at the home of Petunia Dursley expecting to find Lily's child pampered and well cared for. If he'd scrutinized that thought for more than a minute, he could have guessed the truth. Petunia had taken her own bitterness out on the girl. Damnably, her hulking brute of a husband had justified the abuse as a way to rid the child of her so-called freakiness. Vernon Dursley's prejudice against magic unfortunately rivaled that of his own father.

Regrettably, Rose had not been safe at home when he'd called upon the Dursleys. Not content with physical abuse, they had sadly neglected their orphaned niece. He had found her in the dark underneath a towering oak tree over a mile away, unconscious and near death after a brutal, unspeakable attack by a gang of Muggle hooligans who dared call themselves children.

As he had bent over her broken body, his resentment had crumbled. For once, he didn't see Potter's brat, but Lily's battered little girl. He had been filled with shame, and vowed to care for Rose no matter what the price. While the price had been a high one, he didn't regret a thing.

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* * *

"Severus, a word."

Gripping his cane, Severus Snape let Headmaster Albus Dumbledore approach rather than move towards him. His leg pained him too much to retrace his steps. If the wizard needed to speak to him so urgently, he could walk with him through the dungeons towards his quarters. Let the old man think him too proud to turn around and follow.

Striding quickly for a centenarian, it did not take the Headmaster long to catch up. Severus tensed as he noted that every aspect of the powerful wizard pointed to some critical purpose. His robes were a subdued gray. The usual sparkle in his eye had been replaced by a steely glint. Worse, the tension in his jaw indicated that whatever wisdom he had come to impart, it would not be welcome.

For an instant, Dumbledore's gaze flicked to his leg. The old man's expression softened. "I hope you don't mind if I accompany you to your quarters, my boy."

The younger man sneered to mask his increasing discomfort. "It must be grave news indeed if you do not trust an empty corridor to speak plainly, Albus."

"Grave enough," he acknowledged, though he did not elaborate.

By the time they reached his quarters, Severus could barely maintain the charade that all was well. He'd taken two potions for the pain already that day and it was only noon. Dropping into the first available chair, which happened to be at his cramped kitchen table, he irritably gestured for Albus to sit.

The Headmaster didn't take his direction; he never did. Instead, the white-bearded wizard stood by the sink as he summoned a house-elf and requested lunch for the both of them. Then, he prepared a cup of tea entirely by Muggle means before handing it to Snape.

"The experimental potions are failing?"

Severus couldn't say because he honestly did not know. He'd used the chaos of the end of term as an excuse not to seek assistance. The pain and weakness in his left side had only returned after his duel with Lucius Malfoy. While he had hoped it would dissipate, his discomfort had worsened significantly in the past few days. He was glad Rose was at the Weasley's. She would have noticed immediately.

"I'm sure you didn't seek me out to discuss the state of my health. Tell me what has you so concerned, Albus."

The blasted House Elf returned at that moment with a tray full of sandwiches, fruit and crisps. Dumbledore rarely mixed a serious discussion with a meal; he saved those for his accursed sherbet lemons. With a stifled obscenity, the Potions Master focused on eating. Finally, after a long half hour, his employer revealed the reason for his visit.

"Bertha Jorkins has not returned from holiday."

"So? She's no friend of mine."

"Her holiday to Albania."

His mind raced with the implications. "How much damage could she do?"

"Less than feared, but more than hoped, I'm afraid. Her position was with the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"So, the Dark Lord knows about the Triwizard Tournament."

"Assuming she simply didn't forget herself and wander off, yes."

He stared coldly at the Headmaster, who eventually looked away. They both knew that the scatterbrained witch had not merely wandered off in the wilds of Albania.

"Cancel it."

"My boy, you know I cannot."

"I know nothing of the sort," he snapped back, throwing his napkin onto the table. "It was your mad idea in the first place. Surely, you can withdraw your support."

"Had I known in February, perhaps, but the Ministry has spent too much time negotiating the terms of the contest to accept Hogwarts' withdrawal now. The Triwizard Tournament will occur."

He leaned forward eagerly, his pain momentarily forgotten. "Then allow me to teach Defense. The students need a skilled instructor this year more than ever. I can return to my position as Potions Master at the end of the tournament."

"Severus, I simply cannot risk it."

"You will risk Black's life but not mine? Interesting. At least with his experience, he will be more than a match for that coward Karkaroff."

"I have decided not to give the job to Sirius, Severus. I have another person in mind this year."

This revelation didn't reassure him in the least. Although he had dreaded the idea of having to put up with the mutt's childish antics at the Head Table, he had been confident in Black's ability to protect Rose.

"Whom?"

"Someone whose qualifications even you cannot dispute."

He ground his teeth together as the Headmaster stood to leave. The conversation was over. Damn, insufferable wizard! Could he be any more cryptic?

"I'll hold you to that, Albus."

"He's eminently qualified. When you meet him at the start of term, you will understand."

Grabbing his cane, Snape started to rise, but Dumbledore waved him away. "Don't bother, my boy. I've kept you from your holiday long enough. Enjoy your tea. I shall show myself out."

Still clutching the ebony cane, Severus stared into space. He'd hoped for at least a year of relative tranquility with Rose before facing such a threat. The Dark Lord would be drawn to a competition as legendary as the Triwizard Tournament like a niffler to gold.

Would Voldemort possess some unfortunate witch or wizard as he had Quirrel during Rose's first year? Or would the threat be more brazen this time? What lengths would the depraved wizard go to regain his body and the power that would inevitably follow?

Ignoring the pain in his leg, he crossed his quarters to grab a handful of Floo powder. There was someone he needed to see.

* * *

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Wiping soot off his face, Severus ignored the decrepit state of the drawing room he had just entered. His message was too urgent to waste time on pleasantries. "The Dark Lord knows about the Triwizard Tournament."

"And a good afternoon to you, too, Snape." The handsome wizard's gray eyes flicked to a shape half-hidden by the large tapestry of the Black family tree. "Draco, why don't you have a snack in the kitchen."

"I think not," the pale Slytherin immediately retorted. "I'm tired of listening to your barmy house-elf lecture me on the company I keep, especially when it's your company he's referring to."

Sirius grimaced. "Kreacher doesn't consider me a proper Black, not like your mother. Believe it or not, I think he likes you."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

The normally affable wizard sighed. "Go to the kitchen or go to your room, Draco. I don't care which. You do not need to be present for this conversation."

"It certainly sounds like I do."

Snape had had enough. "Upstairs, Draco, now. And, I will have you chopping potions ingredients all summer long if I catch you eavesdropping."

The boy stared at him defiantly before turning around and stomping up the stairs. Sirius briefly stepped into the hall to ensure the surly teen stayed put before inviting Snape to the kitchen.

"The house is in shambles. What isn't rotten has been infested with doxies and worse. I think there's a boggart in the desk over there, but with the boy here I don't want to chance being wrong."

At the word boggart, Severus moved towards the stairs, making an effort to walk as normally as possible. The last person he wanted mothering him was Sirius Black.

"I thought Draco was residing with your cousin Andromeda until Narcissa's release."

The usually affable wizard winced as if he were in pain. "That didn't work out quite as well as we had hoped."

"Explain."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you can guess. While the kid didn't spout pure-blood nonsense like Andromeda had feared, he wasn't exactly thrilled to be living with a Muggle-born. Unfortunately, her husband Ted wasn't exactly thrilled to take in a Malfoy, either. From what my cousin has said, they traded subtle insults but were outwardly civil until two days ago when her husband insisted on reading the Daily Prophet out loud at breakfast."

They shared a long look as Severus paused at the bottom of the stairs. No other explanation was necessary. Two days ago the _Daily Prophet_ had published a lengthy article detailing the items confiscated during the raid of Malfoy manor. While the list of Dark artifacts and their uses had been sensational enough, Rita Skeeter (a name Severus now loathed) had focused on the dead fetus found preserved in a jar. Her lurid speculation had run the gamut from the remains of a tragic miscarriage to the victim of some unnamed ritual so Dark that only the most innocent of sacrifice would do. And, Narcissa had figured prominently in both instances. Little wonder Draco had reacted badly.

Sparing a distrustful glance at the sleeping portrait of Wallburga Black, Severus refrained from comment until they had safely traversed the stairs to the basement. His left leg on the verge of collapse, he hobbled to the overly large kitchen table to sit down while his host gave curt orders to an ancient, rather frightening looking house-elf by the name of Kreacher. It muttered insults and obscenities as Black's upper lip curved into a sneer.

"I don't care what you're doing, you insufferable sod. Go do it somewhere else."

Severus raised an eyebrow at the wizard's uncharacteristic hostility, but didn't otherwise comment. There were more important matters to discuss than Black's deportment with his servant.

"Albus informed me that Bertha Jorkins went missing in Albania. We have to assume the worst."

Sirius threw back his head and barked with laughter. "Bertha Jorkins? What's her position in the Ministry now? Head of the Department of Whinges?"

Drumming his fingers on the table, Severus lost his patience. "Shut it, Black. She worked in Magical Games and Sports. We must assume the Dark Lord now knows everything there is to know of the Triwizard Tournament."

"So?"

The smug wizard's arrogance infuriated him; he banged his hand on the top of the table just to get his attention.

"So, how am I to protect Rose and keep an eye on that idiot Karkaroff at the same time? Our esteemed Headmaster has decided not to give you the Defense position after all."

"What? Why would you think that? Dumbledore all but promised it to me." The lanky wizard wasn't laughing now. In fact, his features were distorted by an angry frown.

"Obviously, he did no such thing. The insufferable old coot wouldn't even tell me whom he'd hired, only that his credentials were impeccable."

"They'd better be." Joining Severus at the table, Sirius briefly rested his head in his hands. "You truly believe Voldemort will try something during the tournament?"

"With absolute certainty."

Leaning back in his chair, Sirius considered the grim possibilities. Eventually, he gave Severus a half-hearted shrug. "At least you don't have to worry about Rose competing in the tournament itself. I understand only wizards or witches who are of age will be allowed to enter."

"A small blessing," he conceded. "I can only hope the dunderhead Albus hires is half as competent as you."

Sirius erupted into a wide grin. "Severus, I didn't think you cared."

"I don't," he immediately retorted, but there was an amused gleam in his eye that belied his curt remark. "I said competent, which is hardly a high standard. Of late, however, Hogwarts Defense instructors have been sadly lacking in that department."

"Remus was—"

"Don't mention that name to me," he snarled, his earlier good humor evaporated. "If you haven't forgotten, you are the only reason he didn't kill Rose."

"He was upset about her kidnapping. He made a mistake. We all make mistakes."

"His was inexcusable."

"At least Remus didn't hurt anyone."

Guilt crashed over him like a rolling wave, followed by a tsunami of fury. His vision blackened as he sprang unthinkingly from his seat. When his knee threatened to buckle, he gripped the table so hard that his fingers went white. Forcing himself to ignore the intense pain running down his entire left side, Severus clumped halfway up the stairs before Sirius could react with more than bemused shock.

"Snape! Wait!"

He didn't. How dare the mutt use his darkest shame against him? He would atone for his betrayal until the day he died. But, it didn't erase the fact that he had caused Lily's death and deprived Rose of any chance of a normal childhood. He should have known the arrogant, egotistical wizard wouldn't be able to resist the pointed reminder. He wished he had never fed that damn dog in the first place.

Reaching the dim entryway, Severus made a beeline for the door. In his haste, he knocked over a hollowed out troll's foot which served as an umbrella stand. The resulting crash woke Wallburga Black's portrait, and the old crone began to shriek.

Ignoring the vitriol, the incensed wizard carefully maneuvered around the mess of moldy, tattered umbrellas that had spilled from the toppled stand. Reaching the door, however, he found it impossible to open, no matter how many spells he tried. Turning, he saw Black standing out of the portrait's line of sight, his wand held in his hand.

"Let me out."

His most threatening tone had no effect on the haughty Marauder. Unfortunately, Wallburga Black took immediate offense.

"Let you out? Let you out? And, why should I do anything of the sort, you ungrateful half-blood? I know who you are, Severus Snape! Your mother always did think she was too good for the rest of us, and you see where that got her!"

"Quiet, you old hag!" Sirius roared at the image of his mother, sending a Silencing Charm racing towards the picture frame. The image in the portrait continued to rant, but quiet fell on the dingy hallway.

"Let me out, Black, or I'll curse you into next week."

"Severus—"

The Potions Master sent a Blasting Curse hurling towards Sirius, which the rangy wizard only barely managed to dodge. "Merlin, Snape! Calm down! I'll let you out as soon as you tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong? You know very well what's wrong! I am well aware of the harm I've caused. Half an overheard conversation given to the Dark Lord, and I signed their death warrants. Do you know how difficult it is to hear Rose speak of Lily? Or even that idiot Potter? Or hear her so casually mention the appalling abuse she suffered under Petunia's tender care?"

Black, his gray eyes wild with emotion, cut him off before he could continue his rant. "Damn it, Severus! You've got to stop assuming the worst in people! I was referring to myself, you lousy pillock, not you! I'm the reason you're gripping that cane today! My mistake nearly killed you, and yet it's Remus you won't forgive."

Breathing heavily, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he attempted to calm down. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but his guilty conscience and residual mistrust of his former nemesis had combined to a disastrous effect.

"I may have made a mistake," he grudgingly conceded.

The insufferable wizard's lips twitched in amusement. "Is that an apology for overreacting or not forgiving Remus?"

He snapped irritably at the other man's humor. "There is no comparison to be made between the two of you, Black. If you cannot see the difference, I shall not be the one to enlighten you. And, lest you've forgotten, that wolf almost killed you. If you hadn't been in your Animagus form, I'd be brewing Wolfsbane for you."

Sirius shook his head. "You would, wouldn't you? I wish I could fathom how your mind works, Snape, but you are nothing short of an enigma."

"Curious, I used to think precisely the same about you."

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* * *

Flooing into the Burrow, Severus brushed a stray spark off his robes. Trust Molly to use the fireplace for actual cooking. Before he could look up, he was engulfed in a warm, motherly embrace.

"Severus Snape! You've lost weight! Rose said you'd been under the weather, but I didn't think it that bad. You're down to skin and bones. Never fear, dinner is practically on the table. We'll fatten you up in no time."

Suppressing the urge to wipe her wet kiss off his cheek, Snape did his best to smile. The Weasley matron meant well, even if her concern was on the smothering side. Accepting a glass of water, he watched as she magically directed seven different pots and pans to prepare supper without the benefit of house-elves.

"How are you, Molly? Has your son found employment yet? Or has he chosen to further his education?"

"I'm doing well, Severus, thank you. And, I'm proud to say that Percy is gainfully employed at the Ministry. He's working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. It's just a clerical position, but to hear Percy talk, you'd think he ran the Department, bless him."

"That's Barty Crouch's job, isn't it?"

She startled a bit at the harsh tone of his voice. "That's right, although I don't think Mr. Crouch has taken time to get to know Percy just yet. It's only his first week. Why? Is there something I should know?"

"He's the wizard who sent Black to Azkaban without benefit of a trial. I'm surprised he hasn't been sacked."

Crouch was also the man who had sent his own son to Azkaban for his participation in the Longbottom's torture. Though many had considered him heartless for such an act, Severus was not one of them. Crouch Jr. had vied with Bellatrix Lestrange for the title of the Dark Lord's most rabid follower, and he had breathed a sigh of relief upon the news of his death.

Severus caught a bowl of boiled potatoes which threatened to spill as Molly colored at the news.

"Oh! I had forgotten he was in charge of the trials. You'd think the _Daily Prophet_ would have mentioned that at least once. I wonder why that poor Sirius Black hasn't made more of an issue of it?"

Wiping her hands nervously on her thin, faded apron, she timidly asked, "Have you spoken to him much, Severus? He is Rose's godfather. What if he contests her guardianship? I understand he was there when that awful girl posed as Hermione and tried to hurt our Rose."

"Yes," he answered slowly. "We have spoken. Black has agreed not to contest the guardianship in return for certain . . . concessions."

"Concessions? He's put conditions on the guardianship? How awful, Severus! What does he want?"

His expression reflected a grim stoicism. "He wishes to host her birthday party."

"He—Severus Snape, how dare you give me such a fright!

Trying but failing to look properly solemn, he warned, "Considering Black's idea of a party, fright is a highly appropriate response."

Molly chuckled as a pot of potatoes clanged on the floor. "Oh, you! I swear Rose is a bad influence. I'm sure it will be delightful. We will be invited, won't we? I don't think the dear's had a proper birthday celebration before. I could bake her the most lovely cake."

"I'm certain you and your family will be invited. The trick will be to convince Black not to invite all of wizarding Britain. He seems intent on making up for lost time by cramming fourteen birthday parties into one."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful."

An enchanted potato masher found the wayward pot. Severus watched, fascinated, as the utensil vigorously mashed the potatoes until they were light and fluffy. While he was proficient at potions, cooking was a skill he had never bothered to master. He hoped Rose was not too disappointed when she discovered his shortcoming.

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* * *

"Professor!"

As Rose ran towards him in the cramped kitchen, he could only stare at the sight before him. They'd been separated four days, not four months, and yet, she had changed into something barely recognizable. Her body curved, from shapely hips to a trim waist to budding . . . . Galloping gargoyles, how could he have missed that? The blouse she wore had been tied at the bottom, exposing her midriff for all to see. And, those shorts! He was certain Minerva would never have purchased anything so, well, short.

Barreling into him, she wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug. As he opened his mouth to berate her on her choice of clothing, he saw Mrs. Weasley emphatically shaking her head in warning. Grateful for the timely advice, he returned Rose's embrace without adding a reprimand on top of it. Rose, it seemed, had no such reservation.

"You're late! I thought you'd be here for lunch! I waited ages inside before Fred and George convinced me to play Quidditch. What took you so long?"

He deliberately sidestepped the question. "I am here now."

"Do you like my hair? Mrs. Weasley showed me how to do it."

His attention solely focused on her clothing, he had not taken the time to notice her hair. Quickly rectifying the situation, he saw that her usually messy tangles had been fashioned into an intricate braid.

"It is very becoming."

"She helped me transfigure some of my school uniform into summer clothes, too. It's strange not having to wear Dudley's castoffs. I think we're going to have to go shopping soon, though. These shorts are somewhat tight."

Again Molly shook her, and again he had to suppress the impulse to comment that they were most definitely too snug.

"Indeed."

"Rose, dear, would you mind fetching everyone for dinner? Arthur will be home soon."

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley."

The young woman bounded out of the house as quickly as she had come, yelling at the top of her lungs. Still somewhat stunned by the entire encounter, Snape could only stare dumbly at the Weasley matriarch.

Molly walked over to him to pat his arm in sympathy. "It must come as quite a shock."

"I knew she'd grown taller, but . . . ." He trailed off, for once at a loss.

"If it's any consolation, she confided that it happened only a few days before school's end. She went to bed feeling achy and woke up thinking someone had played a prank on her during the night. She wore her robes as much as possible to hide it. I had to explain that in rare cases, a witch can go through puberty quite rapidly. I didn't tell her the rest. There's no reason to upset her now that she won't ever have to return to those horrid relatives of hers."

"No."

There was no reason to upset Rose, but every reason to be upset. The circumstances Molly had described only occurred in witches who had suffered severe malnutrition as children.

"You don't have to worry. I sat her down for a nice little chat. She shouldn't have to come to you with questions about"—her voice dropped to a whisper—"you know what."

If a woman who had given birth to seven children couldn't say the word sex out loud, Severus doubted her chat had been all that informative. Perhaps Poppy would be willing to sit down with the girl at some point to answer any questions she might have.

"And, I taught her a charm or two, just in case."

"She's not yet fourteen."

Disapproval must have registered in his voice, for the usually placid witch replied rather icily. "Better she know it than not, Severus."

"Quite." He agreed out of politeness rather than accord. What was done was done. He'd given up the right to raise Rose solely as he saw fit last summer when he'd entrusted her to the Weasleys' care. Besides, he had bigger worries than the girl's nonexistent love life.

Desperately searching for some way to change the topic of conversation, he gritted his teeth as he confessed his inadequacy. "Do you think you could show me how to mash potatoes? My few attempts have resembled wet cement."

The sturdy woman's expression brightened. "Of course I would. Cooking's much more of an art than you would think, but I'll make a chef out of you in no time."

Snape stifled a groan.

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* * *

"That's not fair, Ron! People can't choose their families. Believe me, I know."

Severus froze, a spoonful of peas suspended over his plate. Rose had her hands on her hips, her dinner forgotten. She was right, of course; no one had the luxury of choosing their family. By the set of Ronald's jaw, however, he didn't think the burgeoning argument was going to end there.

Sure enough, the teenager unwisely retorted. "Yeah? Maybe that's true, but you know Malfoy is as bad as they get. You remember how he was that time we used Polyjuice to turn ourselves into Crabbe and Goyle. He was an arrogant, stuck-up prig even if he didn't know anything about the Chamber of Secrets."

"Thanks for that, Ron."

Rose flushed scarlet as she glanced guiltily in his direction. He coolly returned her gaze, more interested in what she had to say about Draco than the belated confirmation that she had been one of the students to raid his Potions stores. Molly and Arthur looked ashamed and angry; he had a feeling their son would quickly come to regret his unintentional confession.

Before Molly could harangue Ron, however, Percy pompously interjected. "The Ministry sides with my brother, Rose. The Malfoys are known practitioners of the Dark Arts. It's only a matter of time before they are caught."

"Now, Percy," Mr. Weasley began, only to have Rose fervently interrupt.

"Fat lot you know, Percy Weasley. Draco saved my life twice last year. If he's a Dark wizard, then I'm Voldemort in disguise."

There was a collective gasp at the table when Rose spoke the Dark Lord's name. Severus found the reaction as tiresome as the argument, but he stayed quiet. The former spy often found it more beneficial to listen rather than talk, especially in a large setting such as this one.

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley put out her hands in a placating gesture, but there was no doubt that she meant what she said. "I think that's quite enough talk about the Malfoys tonight. I can't imagine the horrid things that must have gone on in that house, nor do I wish to. Need I remind you that Rose is leaving tonight. Surely, there are better topics of conversation. And, Ronald, don't think this means you're getting away with using Polyjuice Potion at school! Rest assured your father and I will speak to you later, young man."

There were a few muttered apologies before the conversation turned to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. As he slowly ate his dinner, Severus carefully observed the interactions between the Weasleys and Rose, finding it intriguing. Sly, mischievous expressions on their faces, the twins kept whispering in her ear. He'd pay a galleon to know what they said, but by the expression on his ward's face, she thought their comments scandalous and amusing. Ginny looked glum; the girls wore matching braids and he guessed she would keenly miss the presence of another girl in a house full of boys. Percy didn't glance in her direction more than once. Intent on talking about his new job, he silently fumed when no one took an interest. And Ron sulked as his friend pointedly ignored him.

Needless to say, a subtle tension wove throughout what should have been an enjoyable evening. Wishing to avoid another argument, Molly was overly quick to intervene when any discussion became too lively. Arthur seemed subdued, and careful questioning revealed that there had been a significant upswing in Muggle baiting in the past few weeks.

"We've been lucky," he admitted candidly as he sat at the table with Severus long after the children had run off to fly their brooms in the dark. "So far, the Muggles involved haven't been seriously injured, but the cursed objects have been increasingly nasty. It's not just exploding toilets we've had to deal with lately. Someone enchanted at least a dozen silk scarves to choke the wearer at that big department store, Harrold's."

"Harrod's," Snape corrected automatically.

"Yes, that one. Perkins and I had to call in a few Aurors to handle the aftermath. It was a great big bloody mess. If one of the salesclerks hadn't been a Squib and reported it immediately, it could have been much worse."

Severus scowled as he sipped his tea. "Now that Lucius is dead, there is a power vacuum amongst the remaining Death Eaters. Be wary; the incidents are likely to escalate."

"Amelia Bones agrees. Unfortunately, the Minister does not. Cornelius Fudge would prefer to pretend You-Know-Who never existed. He refuses to acknowledge that the attacks are anything but a few high-spirited individuals blowing off steam."

"Imbecile. I've always wondered why the Headmaster did not accept the post when it was offered to him. It seems the perfect position to plot against the Dark Lord's eventual return."

Arthur stared intently at the glowing embers in the fireplace. "It's just a matter of time, isn't it?"

Snape thought of Bertha Jorkins and a chill went down his spine. "I think time may be running out."


	2. A Fly on the Wall

By eleven that night, the pain in Snape's leg became too unbearable to ignore. He wished he had taken Arthur up on his offer to open a bottle of Firewhiskey. Even Molly noticed his discomfort.

"Are you certain you wouldn't rather spend the night here, Severus? I know you haven't had time to air out your house. You could get a good night's sleep and be fresh and ready in the morning.

Fighting not to let out a string of expletives as he slowly stood, Severus snarled in response. "I fail to see how sleeping on that cramped, sagging couch of yours could possibly constitute a good night's sleep."

He instantly regretted his display of temper. Molly looked stricken and Arthur's face had reddened alarmingly. He couldn't believe he had said such a thing to the very people who treasured Rose as much as he. Contrite, he did his best to make amends, but it was difficult when it felt like an invisible rapier had skewered his leg.

"My apologies. I am overly tired. While I appreciate your offer, I would be more comfortable sleeping in my own bed."

"Of course," the Weasley matron stammered, still affected by his rudeness if the tears welling in her eyes were any indication.

Arthur was not so forgiving. "I can certainly understand why you would find our cramped couch uncomfortable. In the future, perhaps you would prefer Rose to simply floo home so you aren't forced to endure such mean accommodations."

"That was not my intent," he snapped irritably. "This has nothing to do with the state of your home, Weasley. I would prefer to sleep in my own bed. I doubt my ability to walk in the morning as it is. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall inform Rose that we are taking our leave."

Somehow, he managed to limp from the kitchen table to the door and out to the garden. Cross, frustrated and miserable, he didn't look back. If he had, he would have seen the Weasleys' pained expressions quickly change to ones of profound sympathy. It was probably for the best; like Narcissa Malfoy, pity was the emotion he reviled most of all.

* * *

Standing in the tiny sitting room in Spinner's End, Rose Potter agitatedly plucked at her silver bracelet. Biting the inside of her cheek, she blinked back tears. Severus took no notice of her or the dust and grime that had accumulated in his dilapidated family home since his last visit. All he could see was the steep, narrow staircase leading to the bedrooms. It might as well be Mt. Everest. With the spasm in his leg becoming ever more painful, he could not possibly walk to the first floor.

"Professor, please. What's wrong? I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I don't have my things, or Hedwig's cage! Did the Weasleys do something to offend you? Did I do something? Just tell me. Please, Professor!"

"Enough!" he roared as the searing pain intensified. "I am sick and tired of you constantly assuming everything is your fault! The world does not revolve around Rose Potter! Just be quiet for once and allow me to—"

He broke off as the pain flared to the point where speech was no long possible. It was all he could do not to scream. Gritting his teeth, he doubled over before falling heavily to the floor. Bloody stupid fucking idiot—he should have taken a fourth pain potion, potential overdose or not. Breathing deeply, he fought for calm as Rose bent over him shouting his name.

It was the Cruciatus all over again, only this time it was concentrated in his leg. He squeezed his eyes shut as he Occluded his mind. The mental exercise wasn't enough to eliminate his agony, but after several minutes he found the pain had diminished to the point where he was once again aware of his surroundings.

His skin drenched in a cold sweat, he rolled from his side to his back, completely worn out. Weakly, he gave Rose's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Rose," he croaked, his throat raw and raspy. "I am sorry. I did not mean . . . ."

"You need to see a Healer," she stated forcefully, completely ignoring his attempt to apologize. "You've been hurting all day; don't think I didn't notice. Should I floo to the Weasleys or St. Mungo's?"

In spite of the situation, he was impressed by her composure. Nervous and frightened, she had put her emotions aside to take charge of the situation. However, he had no intention of allowing her to floo to St. Mungo's by herself, nor could he stand the thought of Molly Weasley hovering over him like an anxious mother hen.

"Neither," he began, but she immediately objected.

"I'm not going to let you stay on this floor, Professor! Bad enough what happened last year."

She referred, of course, to the day the previously summer when Petunia Dursley had all but thrust Rose into his care. Released from St. Mungo's only hours before, he'd overtaxed his weakened body with the trip to Surrey and had collapsed ignominiously to the floor as soon as they had reached Spinner's End. Much like now, he thought with a grimace.

"If you'd let me finish," he testily replied. "I would prefer not to involve the Weasleys at this time."

"I'll go to St. Mungo's, then."

The pain swiftly increasing, he snapped more irritably than he'd intended. "Listen for a minute, you insufferable child! I want you to contact your godfather. I am going to show you how to use your Patronus as a messenger."

"Why not use the floo?"

"Because," he ground out through gritted teeth, "the house is a menace, especially this late at night." Slowly, so as not to jostle his leg, he took out his wand. "You will have to watch closely. The best I can manage at the moment are the wand motions."

After showing her the spell, he could only watch as she confidently cast her Patronus. The radiant doe waited patiently for instructions, allowing Rose to cast the ancillary spell. Thankfully, she proved to be a quick learner.

"What do I say?"

"Tell her the message and the recipient. She will do the rest."

"Okay."

The doe bent down so Rose could whisper in her ear. By then, Snape was in too much pain to bother asking what she had said. By the worried frown on her face, he guessed it would be melodramatic enough to pull Black out of bed. He watched the graceful image leap through the front door before another wave of agony overtook him. As he struggled not to frighten Rose further, he hoped Sirius would hurry.

* * *

The fireplace in the sitting room flashed a bright emerald green before depositing two wizards inside the cold hearth at Spinner's End. Rose ran immediately to her godfather, throwing her arms around him before noticing the identity of their second visitor. Doing a double take, she glanced questioningly from Sirius to Draco then back to Sirius before insistently tugging the disheveled wizard towards her incapacitated guardian.

In the fifteen minutes it had taken to summon help, Severus had experienced three more attacks, each more painful than the one before. He was at the point where he'd begun to think that amputation would be preferable to another bout of pain, and sweat ran along his hooked nose to drip slowly on the floor.

Long fingers pressed against his carotid artery as the crushing pain began anew.

"You have got to be the most pig-headed, mulish, stubborn git of a wizard ever to walk this earth. What the bloody hell were you thinking, Snape?"

Obviously, he hadn't, but he wasn't about to tell Black that. Nor could he give a verbal reply; the pain was simply too great. If he opened his mouth, the screams he'd trapped in his throat would erupt like a bubbling cauldron.

After a second of tense silence, the pajama-clad wizard gripped his shoulder. "There's no way round it, I'm going to have to take you to St. Mungo's,"

Grunting his displeasure, Severus nevertheless managed a terse nod. He watched Sirius speak quietly to Rose and Draco when the pain ebbed enough for him to take a few deep breaths. As he floated towards the fireplace, he wished he could stay as a fly on the wall. Black had ordered Rose and Draco to wait together at the house. The teens' confrontation would likely prove interesting.

* * *

Someone held his hand. Severus Snape felt a brief stirring of curiosity as that one fact pierced his thoughts. Swimming sluggishly towards consciousness, he gradually took note of the voice which accompanied the comforting gesture. It was a girl's voice, pleasant and familiar, if a trifle self-conscious. Not quite ready to face the reality of what opening his eyes might bring, he floated lazily in his semi-aware state. She told an intriguing tale, and his vivid imagination supplied the rest.

"_Merlin, this place is a hovel. You'd think Hogwarts would pay its professors better."_

_Pulling her eyes off the now empty fireplace, a livid Rose Potter whirled around to face a contemptuous Draco Malfoy. The boy wore striped pajamas, much like his uncle had been wearing, though it didn't appear as if he had slept in a while. Dark smudges underlined his bloodshot eyes._

"_It's not a hovel! He just doesn't live here much during the year. So, shut it, Malfoy, or I'll—"_

"_You'll what?" he asked with a sneer. "You can't hex me here, Potter, unless you intend on getting kicked out of Hogwarts. On second thought, go ahead; it would make my life a whole lot easier." _

_The girl's anger evaporated. Fiddling with her charm bracelet, she took a tentative step towards the pale blond wizard. "Yeah, about that. I . . . well . . . thanks, for sticking up for me. Pansy told me what Marcus Flint had planned. If you hadn't stopped him, I imagine I'd be . . . ." She shrugged, as if to say she had no idea what would have happened, but they both knew better._

_The boy's arrogance all but disappeared. Color rose in his cheeks, although he was quick to look to the floor in order to conceal it. "I'm glad you're alright," he mumbled almost too softly to be heard._

_But the young witch had heard. Incredulous, she took another half-step towards him. "I . . . ." She didn't know how to complete the sentence. After an awkward pause she settled on, "I'm sorry about your Dad."_

_The Malfoy heir jerked his head up to meet her gaze. His vivid blue irises burned with hurt and anger. "Don't be. Nobody else is, especially not me."_

"_Oh." Her mouth gaped in a fair imitation of Ron Weasely. "Yeah, I guess not. Your mum's going to be alright, though?"_

_Leaning against a bookcase full of cracked, leather bound books, Draco scowled. "You don't know, do you?"_

"_Know what?"_

"_What really happened the night my father died."_

_Unconsciously, she smoothed her bangs that hid her scar. "Well, I know it was the same night I ended up in the Hospital Wing."_

"_He saved her."_

_Bemused, Rose stared at him quizzically. "Sirius saved your mum?"_

"_Snape," the boy refuted condescendingly, as if daring her to challenge it. "Father warned me not to protect you again. He would have killed Mother this time, but Snape saved her. And, now he's suffering for it. It's my fault."_

"_You . . . ." Without thinking, she closed the gap between them. Standing inches apart, Rose took his hand. It had been an impulsive act, one she fully expected him to reject. He didn't. Looking down, he laced his fingers with hers. _

_Then, their eyes met. She saw herself reflected in his gaze—the same fears, the same anger, the same pain, simply a different way of showing it._

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Why?"_

_It was a fair question. One she had trouble answering when all she could think about were his fingers entwined with hers. She was sorry that he'd acted like such a prat when they'd first met, sorrier still that she hadn't bothered to look past it. But, most of all, she was sorry to be the cause of someone else's pain._

"_It's my fault."_

_He squeezed her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter."_

_A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. His arrogant, dismissive tone was so very . . . Draco, for want of a better word. Then, the arrogance disappeared, replaced by an earnestness that made her heart thud in her chest._

"_I'm the one who should be sorry. You wouldn't have been in the Hospital Wing this time if I had told Professor Snape straight off. I'm glad you're alive, Rose."_

"_Me too," she quietly admitted before reddening in embarrassment. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like such an idiot? "I mean, I'm glad you're alive too. That night, in the Forbidden Forest, I was scared you'd been . . . ."_

_Her mind blanked as he leaned slowly towards her. He couldn't be about to kiss her, could he? Her chest tightened and her stomach did a strange flip-flop when he did indeed press his lips to hers. Tentatively, she pressed back before he pulled away._

_They stared at each other, both temporarily stunned. She couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy had kissed her! And, she had kissed him back! Kissing wasn't anything like Parvati Patil had described. He hadn't tried to slobber all over her, and his lips had been nice and warm, not cold and clammy. She vaguely wondered whom Parvati had been kissing before smiling shyly at the boy standing in front of her._

"_Hello." Merlin's Beard, could she sound any more witless?_

_Drawing up to his full height, the proud Slytherin somehow managed to appear both amused and haughty. _

"_Liked that did you?"_

_Her reaction was akin to drinking a Pepperup Potion. She was so angry that she thought steam might come from her ears._

"_You . . . you . . . YOU MISERABLE, ARROGANT GIT!"_

"_Wait!" His demeanor changed in an instant. Gone was the arrogance, replaced by an anxiety that made her tense. When he took a step towards her, she took a step back._

_He looked her in the eye and then let out a long breath. "Wait, Rose. I didn't mean it like that. I liked it, too."_

_Oh. Oh! Well, that was alright then. She threw her arms around him._

". . . . So afterwards, it was a little awkward. I mean, the kiss was nice and we hugged and all, but we were both worried about you, and Sirius was taking an awful long time to come back. So, we decided to sit on the stairs and talk. We started talking about the Chamber of Secrets, and when I mentioned Dobby's name, he appeared out of thin air right in front of us! I didn't know house-elves could respond to their name being called from so far away, but Draco said it was part of their magic."

Much closer to waking, Severus sensed her shift in the seat beside him, but his eyes stayed shut.

"Dobby was surprisingly happy to see Draco. But, Draco, he—I'm really glad you're not awake, Professor—he talked Dobby into cleaning Spinner's End. Now, I know I shouldn't have let him, but honestly, it looks loads better. The shelves are dusted and the floors are mopped and the linens are clean and the kitchen sparkles. Besides, Dobby was happy to do it. We did pay him. It was only a couple of knuts, but he acted like we'd given him a dragon's hoard."

She paused for a moment before adding quietly. "It's awfully empty without you in it, though."

The door creaked open and the teen pulled her hand away. "It's time to leave, Rose. Healer Wellby said you could return first thing in the morning."

"Sure thing, Sirius," she answered glumly.

He tried to open his eyes to tell Black to let her stay, but found himself momentarily caught between sleep and wakefulness. A faint, bitter trace of valerian lingered on his tongue, and he guessed that he had been given a Sleeping Draught at some point. Too groggy to be disappointed, Severus listened to the chair scrape across the floor. Rose kissed his cheek, and then the room grew silent once more.

After a while, he dreamed. Though his imaginings started out as nothing more than fanciful fairytales, they soon transformed into vivid, twisted nightmares. The _Daily Prophet_ published an interview written by Rita Skeeter in which he was labeled a fraud, forcing him to take remedial Potions under Horace Slughorn. A huge Grim appeared in front of him on a misty moor, tearing him from limb to limb. Surrounded by those he loved, he transformed into a snarling werewolf to kill them one by one. His left leg chained to a rock, the Dark Lord mocked him as Rose died in his arms.

Weakly, he thrashed about, but try as he might, he could not wake. A string of images marched through his subconscious, each more disturbing than the one before. He begged for help, but all he could manage was a weak groan.

Cool, delicate fingers stroked his cheek. The horrible images slowly receded as his ears filled with the soft sounds of humming. Gradually, his breathing evened as he focused on the world around him.

The tune was hauntingly familiar but one he could not place. One thing, though, was abundantly clear. It was a woman's voice, a woman's soothing touch, a woman's gentle kiss placed upon his brow. Blearily, he managed to open his eyes as his curiosity overcame the last vestiges of the valerian.

"Narcissa."

Tenderly, she smoothed his hair away from his face. "I warned Healer Wellby you were sensitive to Sleeping Draughts."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wished the fog in his mind would dissipate. "How long?"

The hint of a frown appeared on her careworn face. "Two days. Long enough to give everyone a fright, even if your Healer insisted you would recover."

Not quite prepared to think about the state of his health, Severus' eyes travelled to her dress. Icy blue, her nightgown was far too delicate to have been hospital issued, but it did suit her. Idly, he fingered the material. The sleeve was soft and silky against his rough fingers as it concealed the bandages on her wrists.

She bent over him, and he suddenly had a much better appreciation for the silky material. It clung to her curves most provocatively. Instantly, he was exceedingly aware.

"I am certain that seducing me as I lie in this bed is against several St. Mungo's regulations."

"Oh?" she answered with exaggerated innocence. "Then, perhaps you should get up. I am certain I saw a broom cupboard nearby."

As much as her reply exhilarated him, the thought of standing forcibly reminded him of the reason he was a patient at St. Mungo's in the first place. The pain in his leg had disappeared, but at what price?

Sitting up, he experimentally swung his legs over the side of the bed. His left moved as easily as his right. Glancing around the dimly lit room, he searched for his cane, but it was nowhere in sight. He'd have to brace himself against the metal bedframe.

Before he could act, however, Narcissa stood before him. Her fingers threaded through his lank hair, she boldly pulled him into a kiss. He answered brazenly, pouring years of self-denial into his passionate response. A tatter of prudence left them both panting, foreheads pressed together.

"You can't do this again, Severus."

His stomach dropped as he feared he was trapped in a cruel nightmare. Had she already come to regret her actions? But, she ploughed on before he could frame a bitter apology.

"You can't mask your pain anymore. You have people who care for you now, more people than you realize." In a choked whisper, she added, "You can't scare me like that again. Please, Severus, you simply can't. If Sirius hadn't brought you in when he did, the nerves in your leg might have been permanently damaged."

Guiltily, he met her gaze. She was right. He was no longer the solitary spy, suffering in silence for the greater good. Rose must be beside herself with worry if Narcissa's reaction was any basis for comparison.

"Forgive me. I have been alone for a very long time."

His lips brushed hers, his kiss an apology and vow as much as a caress. It rapidly built to something much more as she responded unreservedly to his advances. The two might have forgotten caution altogether if not for the sound of voices coming from the hallway.

"How can Matilda lose a patient in the Restricted Ward? You'd think the sound of the alarm would have been a dead giveaway."

"Been caught sleeping on the night shift more than once, hasn't she? Surprised it hasn't happened more often, to tell the truth. Besides, the widow Malfoy's disappeared before. She's a slippery one, she is. We should check the cupboards like her Healer suggested."

The voices faded down the hallway. Both Severus and Narcissa held their hands to their mouths for several more seconds lest they give themselves away. Studying her features, the Potions Master thought the beautiful witch lying beside him looked ten years younger. Sure the hallway was clear, they both laughed like errant schoolchildren.

"I should go," she reluctantly offered once her giggles had subsided.

"Only if you wish to."

The haggard, haunted expression he had seen on her face upon waking suddenly reappeared. Her eyes darted about the room, as if searching for unseen menaces.

"I can't be seen here, Severus. I'll be punished."

Her sudden, all-consuming fear served as a pointed reminder that there was a very good reason why Narcissa Malfoy currently resided in the Restricted Ward at St. Mungo's. He wished Lucius had burned to death in actuality rather than facing the prompt release of the Killing Curse. The contemptible wizard had deserved to suffer far more than he had.

Pulling back her sleek blonde hair, he kissed the nape of her neck. "They wouldn't dare. Stay with me. Perhaps I can return the favor and keep your nightmares at bay."

She stiffened beside him. "How did you know?"

He had the sense not to blurt out that her lack of sleep was written on every line of her face. "It doesn't take a Legilimens to suspect that you might suffer from nightmares after such an ordeal. Besides, they're aware that you've left the ward. Wouldn't you rather stay here and rest than endure tedious questions?"

"I won't be punished?"

"Of course not. You've done nothing wrong."

It was a testament to her faith in him that she merely pulled the blanket over them both in response. Draping his arm over her waist, he rubbed her back as she slowly relaxed. Utterly content, Severus consciously reveled in his own private fairytale. Though all too real, the nightmares could wait just this once.

* * *

**Author's Notes** - Hi! Yes, this chapter took a little longer to write, but I hope it was worth it. Just in case you were wondering, I make no promises about the permanence of a Rose/Draco pairing. Let's allow Rose to enjoy her first kiss and leave it at that. (With Pansy Parkinson hot on his heels the year prior, I'm sure it wasn't Draco's first kiss.) As for Severus and Narcissa, don't expect anything more descriptive. I'm keeping this story at a teen rating no matter what the characters decide to do.

Thanks so much for the positive response to the first chapter. I appreciate all the alerts and favorites. A special thank you to everyone who reviewed. The feedback is very much appreciated. The next chapter will focus on Rose's 14th birthday. I promise there will be some surprises! Hope you enjoy.


	3. Without Benefit of Instructions

Author's Notes - Hi! Sorry it's been a while. I was on vacation with my husband, and posting took a backseat to spending quality time with him. The next two chapters (yes, I'll actually be posting chapter 4 in a few days) don't revolve around Rose's birthday as I had promised. My writing took a funny turn and I decided to run with it. Let's just say that Severus could have benefitted from a parenting book.

Thanks for all the feedback. I am sorry the story took a vacation, but I'm back now and am looking forward to continuing it. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Mark Wellby didn't bat an eye early the next morning when he discovered two of his patients lying together in the same hospital bed. In fact, he smiled rather cheekily at Severus, who scowled in annoyance before carefully untangling himself from a still sleeping Narcissa Malfoy.

"I must say this worked out much better than I had imagined. However did you convince her to stay?"

Sitting up, the Potions Master thought the Healer entirely too chipper. "Wipe that smug grin off your face, Wellby. Your little scheme could have backfired rather spectacularly. Wouldn't it have been kinder to simply give her permission?"

"Kinder? Perhaps, but kindness will not help her heal. Last night, she slipped past a sleeping Mediwitch, opened a door that she knew she wasn't allowed to open and snuck into your room. I call that progress."

He couldn't argue with the Healer's logic, much as he wished to. Frowning, he changed the subject.

"Where have you hidden my cane?"

Impossibly, the Healer's grin grew even more self-satisfied. His green eyes glittered much like Dumbledore's did when the crafty wizard had a tantalizing secret to spill.

"Miss Potter took it home with her. She objected to my idea of using it as firewood."

Exaggeratedly, he rubbed his ear. "Surely I am suffering from an overabundance of earwax. I thought you said I no longer needed my cane."

"Your hearing is as keen as always, Professor Snape. After examining the long-term effects of the Cruciatus Curse on the damaged nerves in your leg, I was able to improve the efficacy of the potions you took after your stroke last year."

The grin disappeared off the young man's face as his demeanor turned grimly somber. "I apologize for not consulting you before administering them, but had I waited, you would have likely been bedridden for the rest of your life."

"Ah." He steeled himself for a lecture and the Ravenclaw did not disappoint.

"As your Healer, I am appalled by your callous lack of regard towards your own health. And, frankly, I am offended that you did not trust me enough to come to me after your second encounter with the Cruciatus Curse. I take my Healer's Oath very seriously, Professor Snape. Confidentiality between Healer and patient is sacrosanct, something I thought you understood when you called me to privately examine Rose Potter this past Easter."

Pausing to take a breath, Wellby ran his fingers through his spiky blonde hair. Snape thought he might have the opportunity to get a word in edgewise, but the glare the wizard shot towards him convinced him otherwise.

"I doubt you were in any condition to remember what happened once you arrived at St. Mungo's. As your Healer, I must inform you that I was forced to administer the Draught of Living Death. The inflammation in your nerves was severe enough to render an ordinary Sleeping Potion ineffective."

"That's not what you told Sirius."

The two men snapped their attention to the witch lying on the bed. No longer asleep, Narcissa gazed thoughtfully at the younger wizard as she unabashedly threw off the blanket to sit beside Severus.

Taking her hand, the Potions Master silently thanked fate for the diversion. Mark Wellby certainly had gained confidence during his training as a Healer. He would have never dared speak to Severus in such a tone when he was a student at Hogwarts. The fact that he deserved some of the man's ire was not something he wished to contemplate.

The stern expression on Wellby's face softened as he regarded his other patient. "No, I did not. Nor did I inform the Ministry that Rose Potter's guardian had become incapacitated. Had Professor Snape's injury become life threatening, I would have been forced to do both. As it was, I elected to wait to speak to my patient."

"The green of your robes suits you. I rather think Severus owes you an apology, don't you, Severus?"

So much for Narcissa being a distraction. With a few words, she had put him resoundingly in his place while all but publically claiming him as her own. It should have bothered him more than it did, but—oh hell—he had to admit that there was a part of him that liked it. No one, not even Lily, had ever been so blatant in their regard for him. In fact, once they had been sorted into rival Houses, Lily had done everything in her power to make theirs a clandestine friendship, as if she were somehow embarrassed to be friends with a Slytherin.

But, Lily wasn't there. He'd made peace with her memory the year prior even if he would never make peace with his guilt over the role he had played in her death. Gently, he uncurled his fingers from Narcissa's to wrap his arm around her waist.

"I should have consulted you from the beginning, Mark. For that oversight I apologize."

The knowing grin returned to the young man's face. Snape chose to ignore it.

"Apologies accepted, Professor. So long as you promise to return for your follow-up appointment in a month, I will discharge you when Miss Potter arrives, which should be within the hour. Mrs. Malfoy, would you like me to accompany you back to the Restricted Ward? If you hurry, you should have time to eat breakfast and dress before your son's visit."

Severus felt her tense at the Healer's suggestion. "Please don't punish me," she blurted out before cringing against his chest.

He fully expected the specialist to reassure her, to promise that no punishment would be forthcoming, but Wellby simply watched the both of them, noncommittal. Snape's anger flared. He didn't care that the Healer's lack of reaction was likely yet another test. He didn't care just then what progress Narcissa might or might not have made. He could only rage as she cowered against him. Lucius Malfoy had better be roasting in the lowest depths of hell.

"Narcissa, listen to me."

By some miracle she did, going so far as to straighten to look him in the eye.

"They wouldn't dare."

A spark of pride flashed behind her nervous façade. Determinedly, she threw her shoulders back to assume an air of haughty confidence.

"I do hope they serve a full breakfast today, Healer Wellby. What passes for lunch and dinner here is hardly edible. Have I mentioned that I am considering donating the proceeds from my dearly departed husband's life insurance to the hospital? I can't imagine a better purpose, though the decision is not one to be made lightly. I don't suppose you have any idea when I can be discharged so I can more thoroughly consider the idea?"

Slapping his hand against his bright green robe, the Healer laughed aloud. "Remarkable progress, Mrs. Malfoy. If you continue to improve at this rate, I imagine you will be home in a few weeks. Of course, if you were to consider funding some of my research, I might have to shorten that timetable."

After giving Severus an affectionate peck on the cheek, Narcissa stood regally. "I like your thinking, Healer Wellby."

Bowing exaggeratedly, the amused wizard then held out his arm for her to take. "I thought you might."

* * *

"You lied to me."

In a better mood than he had any right to be, Severus suppressed an eye roll. He supposed he should be grateful that Rose had waited until they had Flooed to the privacy of Spinner's End before she vented the fear and apprehension his hospitalization had unsurprisingly triggered. At least they were alone; he didn't think he could take the mutt's reproach on top of hers. Black had stayed with Draco to visit Narcissa.

Draco was another problem altogether. The Slytherin had taken the first opportunity to kiss Rose. Snape didn't know whether to be impressed or appalled, although he knew enough to feign ignorance. He was enormously relieved that the kiss had not triggered any sort of anxiety in his ward other than the usual nervousness that such teenage awkwardness entailed. As little as two months ago, he would have bet on a panic attack or worse. Thankfully, he was not a betting man. It seemed that Rose was truly beginning to heal from that horrific night in Surrey which had been Obliviated from her mind.

"I did not wish to alarm you, Rose. In truth, I feared there was nothing to be done. I tried to ignore the pain for as long as possible."

Crossing her arms, the teen narrowed her eyes in anger as her lips compressed to a hard, thin line. Her expression pointedly reminded him of Lily at her angriest, and he wondered just what he had done to deserve such a reaction.

"I'm not talking about that! You could have gotten yourself killed, and you didn't even bother to say goodbye! Draco told me everything! I can't lose another father! I won't! Do you hear me, Snape? I won't!"

Out of breath from her tirade, the distraught witch clutched the edge of a worn brown chair near the fireplace. Stunned, Severus braced himself against the chair in the opposite corner of the cramped sitting room. The word 'father' reverberated in his head to the exclusion of all else.

"Rose, I—"

But she had already stormed away. Her footsteps pounded up the narrow stairs. Within seconds the door to her bedroom slammed shut with a bang that echoed throughout the house. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus walked into the kitchen to make some tea. He had a feeling they both would need it.

* * *

The once dreary kitchen sparkled under the magic Dobby the house-elf had unleashed. The Formica countertops looked as fresh as they had in the 1960s; the porcelain sink was no longer chipped; the metal fixtures shone like mirrors. And, Rose was right; he hated it, though not perhaps for the reason she suspected.

He didn't care that Dobby had cleaned. Merlin only knew the house had needed a good scrubbing. No, it was the fact that Spinner's End no longer possessed the dark, drab atmosphere he had come to associate with his miserable childhood. Had the kitchen sparkled when his father had broken his mother's arm for burning the roast? Had light spilled into the sitting room as Tobias had pummeled his nose for the first time? Had the ambiance of the small row house once been warm and inviting? He could not recall it as such. His memories of the place were too enmeshed with the memories of his abuse.

Preparing a tray of tea and biscuits, Snape vowed to change that. Dobby had done the most difficult work. By cleaning away several decades' worth of dirt and neglect, the house-elf had exorcised the metaphorical ghosts of Severus' past. Spinner's End need not be a shrine to self-pity. His parents, to use the word loosely, were long dead. Rose deserved the sunshine; perhaps, just perhaps, he did, too.

With that thought in mind, he walked out the back door to the overgrown garden. Searching the long abandoned flower beds, he found a solitary daisy blooming among the weeds. With a simple spell, he transfigured the straggly flower into a cheery yellow daylily before placing it in a small vase on the tray. It was time to have a talk with Rose.

* * *

Knocking on the door to Rose's room, Severus didn't wait for an invitation to enter. His ward lay on the single bed, her eyes fixed pointedly on the ceiling. Like the kitchen, the room was spotlessly clean; unlike the kitchen, it was drab and bare of anything besides the bed, table and battered metal lamp. Temporarily ignoring the Spartan accommodations, he balanced the tea tray on the rickety bedside table before carefully sitting next to Rose.

"I refuse to apologize for assisting Narcissa Malfoy."

When she continued to stare upwards, he silently counted to ten before continuing.

"I owed Draco that much for his timely intervention with Marcus Flint. Furthermore, Lucius had proven himself to be a much bigger problem than anticipated. It was imperative I stop him before he could come up with another plan to kill you, Rose. However, I won't pretend that I acted completely on your behalf. I would have gone to her aid regardless."

Again, he paused, hoping that she might respond in some way, but she might as well have been petrified. Hiding his disappointment, he went on.

"She was kind to me when I was a student at Hogwarts. Although we did not see each other often over the years, I consider her a friend."

He definitely should have started with the father comment. Though truthfully, it disquieted him more than the one-sided discussion he was now having. Still, he and Narcissa hadn't had the opportunity to discuss their relationship, much less how to describe it to others. He chose his next words with the utmost care.

"When Narcissa is released from St. Mungo's, I intend to spend time renewing our friendship."

Still staring at the ceiling, she gave him a half-shrug. "It's not that you helped Draco's mum. No one else should die because of me. It's just that I'm scared of losing . . . ."

Abruptly, she sat up to face him, her eyes huge.

"Hang on a minute, when you say you're friends, what exactly do you mean, Professor?"

Snape, the greasy bat of the dungeons, might have disdainfully replied that it was none of her business or that he meant exactly what he said. Snape, Rose's guardian, however, reacted far differently. Heat rose in his cheeks as the sharp wit for which he was renowned deserted him completely.

"I mean that I care for Narcissa very much."

Inexplicably, the teen began to laugh. For the briefest of moments he thought she mocked him, but he soon understood the reason for her mirth.

"I'm really sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that Mrs. Weasley had a talk with me last week that she started by saying, _when a witch and wizard care for each other very much _. . . . I really don't need that image in my head when I think about you and Mrs. Malfoy."

Regaining some of his equilibrium, he managed a tight smile. "Perish the thought. Frankly, I am surprised Molly was able to bring herself to say that much. I feared she had spoken of the birds and the bees quite literally."

"Well," Rose admitted, her bad mood temporarily forgotten. "She did go on for a while about flowers, but when I told her we had covered that already in Herbology, she went a little green. That's when she began talking about witches and wizards."

Handing her a chocolate biscuit, he took advantage of the turn the conversation had taken. "And, did Molly's little speech answer all your questions?"

Choking on a mouthful of biscuit, Rose coughed and sputtered before regaining her breath. "Err . . . . Yes? I think so, leastways she told me . . . um . . . what goes . . . where and what happens when a witch doesn't use the charm she showed me to prevent, uh, to prevent . . . ."

"Pregnancy," he provided as calmly as if he were discussing the ingredients necessary to brew a Hiccupping Solution.

Her cheeks the color of her Gryffindor Quidditch robes, Rose tugged nervously on her charm bracelet. "Uh, yeah. She . . . she talked about that in great detail—really, really great detail, Professor. It sounds awful."

Severus smirked. Trust Molly Weasley to harp on the horrors of pregnancy and childbirth. She doubtless considered it a good deterrent to pre-marital sex. He suddenly felt sorry for her daughter.

"Did she discuss sex with the same attention to detail, or do you still have questions?"

"Professor!"

Schooling his features, Severus handed her another chocolate biscuit. "I will not ask you to discuss your questions with me if you are uncomfortable doing so, Rose. I merely asked if you did, indeed, have questions about sex. There are books on the subject that you might find helpful, or I can ask Madame Pomfrey to speak to you."

"Oh." Taking a bite of biscuit, she chewed thoughtfully. "I'd like a book, if it's all the same to you. I'd rather not ask Madame Pomfrey. It would be like talking about sex to my grandmother."

"Since I know how much Poppy adores you, I will keep that comment to myself. And, I will order a book for you so long as you promise to ask questions if there is something you don't understand. We can decide whom you will ask at a later date. Agreed?"

Between mouthfuls of biscuit, she nodded her head. "Yeah, that sounds okay, I guess."

Feeling rather smug about how well the discussion had turned out, Severus took a piece of shortbread off the tray. Popping it into his mouth, he savored the rich, buttery treat before entering the next conversational minefield.

"I should have told you myself what happened that night rather than letting you hear it secondhand from Draco Malfoy. I apologize for upsetting you."

Taking the daylily out of its vase, she twirled it between her fingers. "No worries, Professor. Just . . . don't die, alright?"

A lump formed in his throat. He wished he could promise that he would do no such thing, but he would not make an empty vow, not when Bertha Jorkins was missing in Albania. It wouldn't be fair to either one of them.

"Nothing in this world is certain, Rose. You better than most know that."

The stem of the daylily snapped between her fingers. With a closed expression on her face, Rose carefully placed the flower on the tray.

"I meant what I said, you know."

He didn't know. She had said so many things in the last hour that he wasn't sure to what she referred. "I am afraid, Rose, that you will have to be more specific. I recall a great many things you have said."

She frizzed like an angry kneazle. "Don't pretend to be thick, Professor! You heard what I said even if you didn't like hearing it! I'm sorry I called you my dad, but it's the truth! You're the only one who cares about me about me! So, stop trying to protect me! I killed my parents, but I won't lose you! Do you hear me, Snape! I won't lose you!"

As Rose bawled against his chest, Severus tried to make sense of her emotional outburst, but it was difficult to dispassionately analyze her fears when his own emotions were so volatile. How could he allow James Potter's daughter to call him 'Dad' after the part he'd played in her parent's deaths? Wouldn't she feel doubly betrayed once she discovered the truth? And, how could he finally convince her that none of it was her fault? The reckless Gryffindor already tended towards the idiotically heroic; she didn't need a subconscious death wish to compound it.

Feeling as if he were brewing a new potion without the benefit of instructions, he anxiously waited for her sobs to turn into sniffles. Then, he wordlessly handed her his handkerchief. As she noisily blew her nose, he begged Lily for divine guidance, but no flash of inspiration came. He was on his own.

"Rose, I care for you more than I can say. There is something, however, that you must know about my past, something that may affect your regard for me."

Using a clean corner of the handkerchief to blot her watery eyes, the distraught girl shrugged her shoulders. "I already know you called Mum a Mudblood, Professor. I think she should have forgiven you."

He steeled himself for her condemnation. "I wish that were the worst of it, Miss Potter."

The use of her last name caused her to stare at him apprehensively. It didn't take a Legilimens to know that she dreaded whatever came next. Briefly, he considered softening the truth, but she deserved better than a comforting lie.

"After I graduated from Hogwarts, I did something very stupid indeed. I joined an organization known as the Death Eaters, the most rabid of the Dark Lord's followers. I regretted it from the moment the Dark Mark was magically branded onto my skin. Unfortunately, it was not an organization one could quit, and I was too young to consider death an acceptable alternative. I lived a bizarre double life. During the day, I quietly studied Advanced Potions; at night, I participated in raids against Muggles or muggleborn witches and wizards."

"Did you kill anyone?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus answered with great reluctance.

"To my everlasting regret, yes."

He took advantage of her obvious shock to continue the sordid tale. "When I achieved the rank of Potions Master in 1980, the Dark Lord wished to use me as a spy. He bade me to apply for a teaching position at Hogwarts. I met with Professor Dumbledore in the Hogs Head Tavern in March of that year. That night he also interviewed Sybil Trelawny for the position of Professor of Divination. Curious, I listened at the door to the upper room hoping to gain some sort of advantage. It was then that I heard part of Trelawny's prophecy. She spoke of _'one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, born to those who had thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies'_. I told the Dark Lord what I had heard, and he became obsessed with the prophecy. It wasn't until August that I learned that Lily had borne a child at the end of July—"

The tin tray crashed to the ground, spilling biscuits and shattering the teacups as Rose bolted out of the room. Anguished, Severus followed her down the stairs, at a loss for words. He caught up with her just as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the mantel in the sitting room.

"Rose, please, give me a chance to explain."

"I wish I had never been born." Before he could raise another protest, she flung the handful of powder towards the floor. "Grimold Place."

With a flash, she was gone. Severus sank into the chair longing for a Time Tuner to erase the last hour. He couldn't believe the damage he had done. He hadn't merely angered her or upset her. By the flat tone of her voice and the dead look in her eyes, he feared he had crushed her spirit. At least she had run to Black. Perhaps the mutt could pull her from the abyss into which Severus' confession had driven her. Perhaps all hope was not lost.

* * *

After two hours of staring at the fireplace and three hours of agitated pacing, Snape couldn't stand it any longer. Even if she refused to see him, he had to know how Rose fared. Hoping Black would forgive him for being such an arse in the first place, he Flooed to Grimmauld Place.

The drawing room was dark and deserted. Irrationally, Severus grew angry. Why hadn't Black bothered to send a message? Ignoring the rattling desk, he walked downstairs, continuing down to the kitchen when he thought he heard the sound of laughter.

Bursting into the kitchen with an apology on his lips, Snape stopped short. Sirius and Draco were alone, sitting at the far end of the massive table eating an early tea. They both looked surprised to see him, and a trickle of fear slid down his spine.

"Where is Rose?"

Black's warm smile immediately disappeared. Automatically, he straightened in his seat. "Not here, obviously. Why? What's happened?"

"I told her."

"Told her what?"

"I told her how the Dark Lord obtained the prophecy."

The rangy wizard knocked over his chair in his haste to stand up. Draco sat as still as a cornered rabbit, taking it all in.

"Are you out of your bloody mind? Why the hell would you want to do that?"

"She called me her father. I—"

"Fuck a dragon, Snape! Merlin forbid you stop wallowing in your own guilt long enough to consider what's best for her! Do you really think she needed to hear the role you played in her parents' deaths? Wasn't Peter's betrayal enough? Damn it, you're playing right into Dumbledore's hands! I told you he wants to drive a wedge between the two of you. He practically asked me to challenge the guardianship. What do you think he's going to do when he discovers she's run away?"

Ashamed, he bowed his head. "I am well aware of my mistake. It does not negate the fact that Rose should be here, Black. She Flooed here nearly five hours ago."

"She couldn't have. Five hours ago, I was upstairs trying to clean doxies out of the drawing room curtains. I would have seen the flash in the fireplace. Are you certain she said Grimmauld Place?"

"Of course," he replied without thought. "She was scarily calm. She said she wished she had never been born. Then, she took the Floo powder and said . . . ." Reeling, he braced his hands on the table.

"What, Snape? What did she say?"

"She said Grim Old Place."


	4. No Place Like Home

Author's Notes - As promised, here's the next chapter only days after posting the last one. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I was nervous at how the story had turned, and I really appreciate the feedback. Yes, Snape really did mess up in the last chapter, but the guilt of what he did has haunted him for most of his life. It's not something he can overcome in an instant. And, yes, this chapter stretches the idea of accidental magic to extreme levels, but I couldn't get The Wizard of Oz out of my head. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Dizzy and feeling slightly green, Rose tumbled out of the cold fireplace. Clutching a ratty wingback chair, it took her a moment to understand that the darkened room was much too small to be Sirius' drawing room. Holy Harpies, she had gotten lost in the Floo Network again! What would the Professor say about that?_

_Then, she remembered. She didn't care what Professor Snape said. She didn't want to see the greasy git ever again. He had lied to her from the start. He had killed her parents, killed his best friend, killed Muggles and Muggleborns and who knew what else. She was nothing more than his penance, if that. Perhaps he was simply keeping her safe until Voldemort could come back properly and kill her._

_With that depressing thought, she cast Lumos to search for a bowl of Floo powder to complete her trip. Before she could take a step, however, a strangely familiar voice slurred out a warning._

"_Get out before I curse you."_

_Alarmed, Rose jumped away from the voice, but in her panic, she tripped over an empty bottle of Firewhiskey and landed flat on her back with a sharp cry. As if that weren't enough, her head hit the floor with a resounding crack. _

"_Shite." _

_A lamp dimly illuminated the tiny room, and for a moment Rose thought she must be mad. Somehow, she had ended up at Spinner's End, but it wasn't the Spinner's End she had just left. Chaotic piles of books littered the floor, some blackened and smoldering. The chair across the room was upended, and the shoddy sofa looked even shoddier with stuffing spilling from long, deep slashes in its cushions._

_Worse was the man who approached her. She could smell the alcohol on him from across the room. Clutching a half-empty bottle in his right hand, he stumbled forward. His face had that red, blotchy complexion particular to prolonged crying. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his limp, matted hair shone with grease. He looked tired and worn out, though it was hard to tell for sure. His skeletal appearance and surly drunken demeanor gave him the illusion of age. It was his dull black eyes and hooked nose, however, that had her scrambling to her feet._

_As soon as the man met her gaze, he dropped the bottle. It shattered into tiny shards of wet glass, splashing its contents all over the wizard, the floor and Rose. Inexplicably, tears ran down his cheeks, though his eyes narrowed and his mouth pursed into a severe frown._

"_Fuck it, Lily, why the hell did you have to die? Oh, God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I swear; I didn't know!"_

_Oblivious to the filth and broken glass, a much younger Severus Snape sank to the floor and wept unabashedly. Filled with righteous anger, Rose Potter had little sympathy for the pathetic scene._

_Maybe if you hadn't told Voldemort that stupid prophecy, she'd still be alive, you . . . you Death Eater!_

_Desperately, he reached up to clutch her arm. "I tried to keep you safe! You have to believe me, I did all I could!"_

_Frightened, Rose tried to wrench herself out of his grip, but he was surprisingly strong for a drunk. It only made her angrier._

"_What? You politely ask Voldemort to spare her?" Is that why he gave her a choice? She could have stood aside and let him kill her baby. Is that what you wanted, Snape? My mum alive and me dead? Disappointed Potter's brat lived, are you?"_

_As quickly as a viper strike, he jumped up to grip her chin. Blearily, he scrutinized her face. "Rose?" Immediately, he let her go, backing up a few feet to grab a bottle off the torn sofa. Taking a hefty swig, he regarded her thoughtfully. "He was right; you have your mother's eyes."_

_In spite of herself, she was curious. "Who was right?"_

"_Dumbledore. He told me when I made the Vow that you had Lily's eyes."_

_The vow—she had momentarily forgotten he had made some sort of promise to protect her. He had, in fact, protected her at the cost of his own health. Why would he do that? He was the enemy, wasn't he? _

"_How'd Professor Dumbledore trick you into doing that?"_

_Volatile, the greasy-haired young man again lost his temper. "He didn't trick me, you insolent chit of a witch! I did everything I could to save you and your mother! I even worked to save that toerag Potter, but his choice in friends leaves much to be desired!"_

_His insults only fueled her rage. Hardly listening to his explanation, she lashed out, intending to wound._

"_But you didn't, did you? Really, Snape, how hard did you try to save your filthy little Mudblood pal?" _

"_DON'T SAY THAT WORD!"_

_Again, his quick reflexes surprised her. Cringing as he painfully gripped her wrist, Rose's heart pounded in her chest. This angry stranger could do anything to her and no one would ever know. _

"_Expelliarm—aah!"_

_She yelped in fear as he violently knocked her wand out of her free hand. But, her reaction only seemed to enrage him further. When the pressure increased on her arm, she feared he would break her wrist. He didn't seem to be aware of the pain he caused her. _

"_Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I risked death on a daily basis to keep Lily safe from the Dark Lord. I stared into the eyes of one of the world's greatest Legilimens and lied to his face. I pretended to be loyal to the cause as I did everything to undermine it. I passed along information about scheduled raids. I purposefully diluted potions meant to poison Ministry officials. And none of it fucking mattered because she's still dead! If Black weren't in Azkaban, I'd kill him with my bare hands. Do you hear me? With my bare hands!"_

"_Ye—yes," she stammered. Growing ever more terrified as he breathed heavily on her face, Rose no longer knew what to think. _

"_You're still a murderer," she tremulously accused._

_Abruptly, he released her to take another swig from the bottle. She quickly took three prudent steps backwards, putting the chair between them. _

"_You think I am unaware of that fact? I see the faces of every Muggle, witch and wizard I watched Bella and the like torture and kill. If there is an afterlife, I will burn in the pits of hell."_

"_You . . . you watched people being killed, not killed them yourself?"_

_The fight appeared to fizzle out of him. Sitting on the ratty sofa, he downed several mouthfuls before raising one eyebrow. "There's a difference?"_

"_Isn't there?"_

_Inexplicably, he grinned, though it was not by any means a pleasant smile. "I definitely need to get more pissed."_

"_Why?"_

_The young Snape chugged the rest of the amber liquid before answering. "Bit mouthy for a hallucination, aren't you?"_

"_You think I'm not real?"_

"_Unfortunately, I'm not so far gone to forget that Rose Potter is a mere toddler. The Headmaster assures me that she is safely residing with Lily's relatives."_

_The out-of-time witch put her hands on her hips, momentarily forgetting her caution as old hurts threatened to bring tears of outrage to her eyes._

"_You mean Aunt Petunia? I'd hardly call her a safe haven, would you?"_

_Her rejoinder provoked an unexpected reaction. His face paled white before turning a sickly green. Vomiting over the armrest, he groaned in misery._

"_He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. Tuney hates anything to do with magic. He wouldn't do that to Lily's child."_

_Impulsively, she took a step forward. A desperate plan took shape in her mind. "You could save me, you know. Just knock on the door and tell her you've come to take me away. She won't make much of a fuss. She had to beg her husband to take me in. You'd be doing her a favor. Besides, you made a vow to protect me, and that includes protecting me from Uncle Vernon's belt."_

"_No, no, no," he moaned, summoning yet another bottle of Firewhiskey from the kitchen. Oblivious to her, he opened the bottle and downed at least a quarter of it in one long pull. "Not true, not true."_

_Rose began to worry that Snape might just drink himself into an early grave. She'd never seen anyone so pissed, including Aunt Marge. _

"_If you'd just sober up, you could do something about it. It doesn't have to be like this. You can save me."_

_Staring at her, he did his best to finish the bottle. When he finally did respond, his words were so slurred that the teen had to struggle to understand him._

"_. . . . promised . . . safe . . . . Aurors . . . . Refuse . . . sober . . . Azkaban. No more . . . deserve."_

_Azkaban? Why would he be going to Azkaban? He'd made up for his crimes by becoming a spy, hadn't he? No! What had she done? The Professor had cared for her mum so much that he risked everything for her, and she hadn't even let him try to explain. He'd been the only person who'd ever cared enough about her to take her away from the Dursleys. What if she couldn't get back? He'd blame himself. She had to get back! She had to make him understand that it wasn't his fault._

_The now empty bottle of Firewhiskey rolled out of the Death Eater's slack hand to clunk loudly on the floor. Startled out of her thoughts, Rose hesitantly stepped towards the drunken wizard._

"_Snape? Professor? Can you hear me?"_

_But the grief stricken man had finally achieved his goal. He was finally too pissed to respond. In fact, he was barely breathing. Her head pounding, the young witch tried not to panic. He couldn't die now! He just couldn't! Impulsively, she conjured her Patronus and whispered in its ear. The silvery doe nodded before racing away. _

_Rose didn't wait to see the result of her actions. Staggering to the mantel, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder. _

"_I want to go home!" she cried as she stepped into the fireplace. As the world darkened around her, she disappeared in the billowing green smoke._

* * *

When Rose finally showed signs of waking, Severus reluctantly left her bedside to call for her godfather. He didn't hold any illusions that she would wish to see him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. He stood unseen outside the door, dreading to hear how he had come to find her lying unconscious on the sitting room floor some twelve hours after she had left.

She woke only a few minutes later, blinking blearily at the face hovering above her.

"Sirius?"

"Rosie, it's good to see you awake, love. You gave us all quite the scare."

The Marauder's voice was warm and gentle, but grated on Severus' nerves nonetheless. Pushing aside his jealousy, the anxious wizard inched forward to better hear the girl's reply.

"Where am I?"

"You're safe now, Rose. You're home."

The Potions Master was oddly grateful for Black's optimism, misplaced as it was. She might be at Spinner's End, but she was certainly not home, not if her reaction was any indication.

Agitatedly, she tried to sit up, only to have the mutt gently settle her back on the pillows.

"Not just yet, Rosie. You have a nasty bump on the back of your head."

But the teen only grew more distressed. "This isn't my room! Please, Sirius, I want to go home! Please take me home!"

Outside the door, Severus let out a long breath of disappointment. He should have known that a few cosmetic changes to her bedroom could hardly make up for his betrayal. As soon as she recovered, he'd move her things to Grimmauld Place.

Black glanced out the door, compassionately meeting the hidden wizard's gaze. "Once you're feeling better, I promise. You were unconscious long enough to give everyone quite a fright. Draco might not admit it, but he was as worried as I." Patting her shoulder, he quietly asked, "Do you remember what happened to you?"

The pause lasted so long that Snape hazarded a peak into the room. Rose stared at the Gryffindor pennant on the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. The other wizard shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea what was running through her head. Fighting his instincts, he reluctantly stepped back.

"I want my dad. Please, Sirius, I just want my dad."

Closing his eyes, he fought despair. Whatever had happened must have been terrible indeed for Rose to beg for James. Even the Marauder seemed to be at a loss.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie."

"I killed him, didn't I?"

Sirius' shock echoed in the small room. "What? How could you possibly think that? Of course you didn't. You were just a baby."

"I did! I know I did! This isn't where I belong! This isn't my room! I made a mess of things, Sirius! It's my fault! I killed him; I killed him!"

The guilt underlying her hysteria greatly alarmed the Potions Master. If she couldn't overcome her mistaken sense of responsibility for her parents' deaths, it would destroy her long before the Dark Lord could ever raise his wand. No matter what she thought of him, he couldn't stand in the shadows any longer. Rose needed to be reminded exactly where the fault for James' death lay.

"Miss Potter, I believe you know full well where the responsibility for your parents' deaths lies. I gave the prophecy to—"

The speed at which she hurtled into him knocked the breath out of his lungs. As she sobbed uncontrollably against his chest, Severus quietly addressed Black. "Fetch Wellby, quick as you can."

The rangy wizard took the stairs two at a time in his haste to Floo to St. Mungo's. As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded, Snape gently disentangled himself from the crying teen.

"Rose, I cannot begin to tell you how much I regret giving the prophecy to the Dark Lord. But, you must believe me when I say that you are in no way responsible for their deaths. You cannot blame yourself for the actions of others. That path leads only to despair."

She seemed not to be listening. Her eyes were haunted, as if she had just woken from a terrible nightmare, and she clutched his robes as if she feared being ripped away. When she finally spoke, her voice had an odd detached quality indicative of shock.

"Where am I? Why aren't I home? Are you still my Potions Master, sir? Or did I make a mess of that too?"

"Rose?" Putting his hand to her forehead, he found it cool to the touch. The lack of fever didn't reassure him, however. "You are in your bedroom at Spinner's End. As soon as Healer Wellby declares you fit, I will help you move your things to Grimmauld Place. Sirius has already agreed—"

Dazed, she took a step away from him as she scrutinized the room. "No, this is wrong, sir. I am lost again. I'm not the Rose you think I am. Might I use your Floo? Perhaps this time I can find my way home."

What in Circe's name was she talking about? Why did she believe herself to be lost? Had someone cursed her with a permanent Confundus Charm?

"You were lost in the Floo Network, but you somehow returned half a day after you left. Do you remember what happened to you? Can you tell me where you went? Please, Rose, it may help the Healer treat you."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she again stared at the Gryffindor pennant. "I met a Death Eater."

Involuntarily, he sucked a noisy lungful of air through his teeth. How the bloody hell had a Death Eater found her so quickly? Were his security measures for naught? Had an enterprising former compatriot compromised the Floo Network? And, what barbarities had he committed against her?

"He didn't hurt me."

Her protest was too quick and a shade too shrill to be believable.

"Your head and wrist say otherwise," he gently admonished, leaving out the alcohol that had permeated her skin and clothes.

The young witch scrutinized her bruised arm just as thoroughly as she had studied her newly decorated room. The purple finger marks around her wrist finally pierced her detachment. Wearily, she rubbed her hand over her eyes, as if attempting to scrub the image away.

"It's not his fault. He was drunk. He thought I was a hallucination."

"You defend him?"

Her green eyes finally met his black ones. Improbably, they shone with conviction.

"Always."

Was she Imperiused even now? What had the fiend done to her?

"Rose, you can't—"

Her chin jutted out defiantly in fair imitation of her father, though she trembled with emotion. "I can and I will, sir. I tumbled out of your fireplace. You were drunk. You didn't mean to grasp my wrist quite so hard."

Hell, it was worse than he thought. Whatever had happened to her had resulted in a complete break from reality. Where the hell was Black with the Healer? He was woefully out of his depth.

"Rose, I make it a point never to drink excessively. Frankly, my father was an abusive bastard when he was drunk, and I have no desire to tempt fate by following his example. Why don't you rest until Healer Wellby arrives? I believe your head injury is affecting you more than Sirius or I suspected."

"It isn't! I'm telling you the truth, sir! It was before the Aurors came for you. I was there! I tried to save myself from the Dursleys and changed history! This isn't my room! This isn't my Spinner's End! I'm thankful Dumbledore reached you in time, I truly am, but I killed my Professor! He doesn't exist! I don't want things to change! I just want to go home!"

The air rushed out of his lungs as if a troll sat on his chest. Impossible as it was, he knew she spoke the truth. While he didn't remember that night, he vividly remembered the aftermath. He had woken in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, Albus sitting anxiously by his side. That afternoon his mentor had personally escorted him to Azkaban with the promise that his stay would not be a long one.

The Headmaster had later revealed that he would have died if he hadn't sent his Patronus as a distress signal. Severus had always thought the story somewhat off. He had done his best to drink himself to death. Surely by the time his mentor had found him, he had been beyond such positive thoughts.

The temptation to wallow in what he might have done to Rose in his drunken state was all consuming. If he had been abusive towards her like her bruised wrist implied, he might never forgive himself. But, Sirius was right on one count. He had to learn to push aside his own guilt to consider her wellbeing first. Instead of demanding an accounting of that night, he sought to reassure her.

"I believe you, Rose. Now, you must believe me. I am the same wizard you left nearly two days ago. Though I would have gladly given up my future to change your past, nothing has been altered save the décor in your room."

"I didn't make a mess of things?"

"Never."

"Oh."

She seemed to be at a loss, staring blankly once more at the walls of her room. Severus gently led her back to bed, tucking her underneath the thick, warm blanket.

"It will be alright, Rose. Healer Wellby will make sure your wrist and head are the worst of it, and then you can rest before we talk. I imagine you must have questions."

"Do you hate me?"

"Hardly."

He had to squelch his desire to ask the same question in return. Of course she hated him, her anxiety that she had somehow affected his past notwithstanding. He had set in motion the chain of events that had led to her parents' deaths and her abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. How could she not hate him?

"I don't like this room."

He looked around the tiny bedroom that her godfather had transformed into a gaudy Gryffindor shrine. The riot of red and gold only served to emphasize its inadequacies. "It is quite small, isn't it? I am certain Black can provide you a much nicer room at Grimmauld Place."

"But you said you didn't hate me!"

He couldn't believe his stupidity. Somehow, he'd done it again! He'd been so caught up in his own guilt that he hadn't truly listened to her. She'd been distraught because she feared she'd somehow killed him—him, not James. Not recognizing the changes in her room, she'd begged to go home; yet, he'd denied her at the first opportunity. How could he be so thick?

And, how could she be so forgiving? Weren't there some acts too heinous to pardon? He'd betrayed her and her parents to the Dark Lord. That was certainly a more serious offense than calling your friend a mudblood in the heat of an argument. Wasn't it?

"I don't, Rose. I did, however, fear you hated me. I regret making such an assumption."

She eyed him remorsefully, as if she were deeply ashamed. "I tried to, Professor. Honestly, I did. I said some horribly nasty things to you. I wanted to make you hurt as much as I did, but it didn't work. Even when I was yelling at you, I couldn't help but remember how much you've done for me, how you're the only one who cared enough to take me away from my aunt and uncle, how you were hurt trying to protect me. Even if you hadn't become a spy, I don't think I could have hated you for long because I love you too much."

Her honesty both humbled and awed him, as did her generous spirit. Though his voice was raspy with emotion, his heart was lighter than it had ever been as he carefully took her hand.

"I love you too, Rose. You are more than I could have ever hoped for in a daughter. It is I who must apologize for making a mess of things."

This time when she threw her arms around him, her hug was one of elation, not desperation. Unreservedly, he hugged her right back. Rose had come home. In the end, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Casually tipping back in his chair, Mark Wellby glanced curiously at the Muggle appliances in Snape's kitchen.

"Physically, Rose is fine, Professor. The bruising around her wrist is the worst of it. The lump on the back of her head is superficial. From the few published studies I've read about Time Turners, time travel can be very taxing. With that amount of accidental magic, I would have to say that her body simply needed extra time to recover."

Snape accepted his explanation without question, although he had never heard of anyone travelling back in time without aid of a Time Turner, accidental magic or no. It was what the healer hadn't said that bothered him.

"And, mentally?"

Do you actually use these, Professor, or are they simply for show?"

Taken aback, Severus glanced about the spotlessly clean kitchen and shrugged. "The toaster, coffeepot and kettle, certainly. The stovetop I occasionally utilize as a makeshift Potions lab. As for the oven, my cooking skills leave much to be desired. I generally live on a diet of sandwiches and takeaway during the summer months, though Dobby stocked the freezer full of Hogwarts dishes. Perhaps I should consider purchasing a microwave."

The young healer sat up in his chair, suddenly serious. "A microwave? Why a microwave when an ordinary Heating Charm would do?"

The question blindsided Severus. He'd truly never considered why he used Muggle appliances in the kitchen, nor did he particularly wish to.

"Does it matter? Both are sufficient for the task."

"Of course it matters, Professor Snape. Let me ask the question another way. Did your father allow your mother to prepare food magically?"

Suddenly uneasy, he reflexively felt for his wand. "No, he did not. In fact, he snapped her wand the one time she tried. So, yes, Mister Wellby, I have unconsciously continued to follow his rules in this kitchen. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. However, I fail to see how this pertains to Rose in any way."

"I apologize for making you uneasy, Severus. I wished to make a point, a point that has everything to do with Rose."

"And that being?"

"That you've had years to overcome the damage done to you by your abusive father, and yet you still fall into familiar patterns. Rose will be the same, worse since she doesn't have the perspective of time as you do. I doubt she has the capacity to understand at this point the damage her relatives have done to her psyche. Emotional abuse is in many ways worse than physical abuse, though the two often go hand in hand."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he regarded the healer warily. "What, exactly, are you trying to say?"

"That the concern you expressed about her misplaced guilt over her parents' deaths is just the tip of the iceberg. Her aunt and uncle belittled her for a decade. Vernon Dursley called her Freak so often that before attending school she believed it to be one of her names. From a very young age, she worked as diligently as a house-elf with no thought of reward, only the faint hope of avoiding punishment. Locked in a cupboard for days on end, they taught her that she was less than human. She was often forced to eat their scraps when she was fed at all, and she couldn't help but notice how the dogs that came to visit with Dursley's sister were treated better than she. And, that doesn't even take into account the physical abuse or how her cousin was encouraged to torment her outside the home. No matter how normal she may appear, her sense of self-worth is almost nonexistent. Other children in similar situations have resorted to self-harm. Frankly, I am astounded that she has not."

Alarmed, he interrupted the impassioned healer. "You think her suicidal?"

The wizard mused over his answer for far too long. "No, not in a traditional sense. Her capacity to love is truly miraculous considering her background. Subconsciously, she must realize her suicide would negatively impact the people she cares for. It's her tendency to put herself in harm's way that has me concerned. From the little I've been able to infer, Rose rushes recklessly into danger at the first sign of trouble."

"Regrettably, the danger often chooses her. You do understand that the Dark Lord is not as dead as everyone hopes? He will do everything in his power to kill the witch who humiliated him before she could even talk."

"That is precisely my point, Severus. Rose will not kill herself, but she is primed to be a martyr."

"Over my dead body."

The healer simply regarded the kitchen thoughtfully. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."


	5. Fourteen

Author's Notes - I'm not sure what has happened to my writing abilities, but I have been struggling with this chapter for well over a week. I'm still not happy with it, but if I don't publish it, I'm afraid I'll continue to tinker until I lose my courage to post at all. So, I do apologize if the quality isn't what it should be. Rose's point of view pops up again in this chapter. With Snape and Rose living under one roof, I've found it difficult to limit the POV to one person, and I hope it's not too choppy. I did delete a 2,000 word tangent where Snape visits his own Gringotts vault. Although I enjoyed writing it very much, I finally decided it was just that-a tangent. There is more birthday party action in the next chapter, but it's not turning into the lighthearted romp I had hoped it would. Of course, The Goblet of Fire isn't exactly a light-hearted book, so perhaps it's for the best. Anyway, I'd better post this before I lose my nerve. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

As capricious as only teenagers could be, Rose didn't take to calling Severus 'Dad'. She seemed content to call him Professor once they had both acknowledged the deeper bond. He didn't mind, not much. It certainly saved them both from awkward questions. Her appearance resembled James' less and less as she grew into her adolescence. If she took to calling him Dad, tongues might wag in certain circles. No, Professor was enough for now, though he hoped when she reached adulthood she would consent to call him Severus.

The fear that she might never reach the age of majority oftentimes kept him awake. He'd taken Mark Wellby's warning to heart, though perhaps not in the way the Healer had intended. For the last few weeks, he had been teaching her spells at a frenetic rate. She might be destined to face the Dark Lord, but hell if he was going to let her be a martyr to the cause.

"Again."

Half-heartedly, Rose raised her wand. _"Diffindo."_ The apple he had placed on a chair in the tiny back garden looked just as whole as it had the last twenty times she had attempted the new spell. He'd taught her the wand movements himself, and her pronunciation was perfect. It was her will, he decided, that was lacking.

"Care to tell me why this particular spell is so difficult for you?"

Shrugging, she picked the apple off the chair and bit into it. "Couldn't we practice the defensive spells again, Professor? I'm loads better at those."

He fought the urge to throw up his hands in a melodramatic gesture of defeat. Her aptitude for defensive spells was unquestionable, but he subscribed to the Muggle notion that the best defense was a good offense.

"That's all very well and good, Rose, but it is difficult to maintain an effective defense on more than one target at a time. If you are faced with multiple opponents, you will need to neutralize them quickly. To that end, the Severing Charm can be quite effective."

Looking down at the toes of her new trainers, she mumbled, "Yeah, on Draco especially."

At least now he understood her reluctance to cast the spell.

"Draco was hit by the Cutting Curse. It's a Dark spell meant to permanently sever flesh, and is used almost exclusively by Death Eaters. The Severing Charm is nothing like the Cutting Curse or I would not teach it to you."

"So, it can't be used to cut people?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he carefully considered his answer. "Of course it can. Most spells are limited only by the creativity and intent of the caster. You know that. You and your friends knocked out a mountain troll using nothing more than a simple Levitation Charm. I can assure you that Professor Flitwick does not teach that particular application in his classes.

"Oh. I guess you're right, Professor. I never thought about it like that. Do you want me to give it another go?"

Snape did, but after a few second's thought, he reconsidered. They had the entire summer to practice spells, and a break might do her some good.

"Using what? I believe you've eaten the target." He grinned wryly as she guiltily dropped the apple core onto the grass. "If you're still hungry, I thought some ice cream at Flortescue's might not go amiss."

"You're taking me to Diagon Alley? That's brilliant, Professor!"

Before she could get the idea that he had any intention of spending his afternoon being dragged from shop window to shop window, he put up his hand. "I am taking you to Flortescue's, Rose. I thought you might enjoy some ice cream while I see to a few errands. Do not think you can cajole me into a trip to Quality Quidditch Supplies."

Far from being upset, the young witch smiled knowingly. "I wouldn't want to ruin whatever surprise you and Sirius have planned for my birthday, Professor. I promise to behave and eat my ice cream rather than following you in my Invisibility Cloak."

Severus, who knew her capable just that, raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean. I must speak to the apothecary about some Potions ingredients I am adding to the supplies list. I simply wish to spare you the tedium of listening to a long, boring conversation."

The smile didn't leave her face. "If you say so, Professor. Just let me wash up." Suddenly, her happy mood faltered. "Er, how are we getting to Diagon Alley?"

"The Floo—it's much easier than Side-Along Apparition."

"Couldn't we . . . I dunno . . . take a train into London?"

Sympathetically, he shook his head. "I am confident you will successfully navigate the Floo Network this time, Rose, or else I wouldn't have suggested it."

"Oh, yeah, I suppose, Professor. Just, don't be surprised if I end up in Knockturn Alley, okay?"

Severus bit back a grimace as he remained outwardly positive. The thought of Rose Potter wandering lost in Knockturn Alley was a sobering one. No matter how talented she might be on a broom, however, she couldn't avoid the Floo Network forever. Best get it over with before she grew too scared to make the attempt.

"You'll do no such thing. Enunciation is the key to navigating the Floo Network. If you have to practice saying Diagon Alley ten times before you go through, then so be it.

Shoulders hunched, she muttered under her breath as she walked into the house. "Yeah, that sounds like loads of fun."

Luckily for both of them, Snape didn't hear it.

* * *

Rose woke at midnight on her birthday just as she always had, excited and more than a little nervous. Excited because—well, she was fourteen now, wasn't she? Who wouldn't be excited? This time, however, her birthday anxiety was like none prior. This time, she had something to look forward to. Before the age of eleven, she'd woken with the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, Aunt Petunia would do something special for her on her birthday. Maybe her aunt would fix her breakfast the one time, or perhaps she'd take her shopping and purchase one pair of jeans that fit her waist. Her hopes, however, had never materialized into reality.

In fact, the Dursleys had never marked her birthday at all except for the one time at the age of ten when Mrs. Figg (who had been looking for a lost kitten) had asked Rose in front of Aunt Petunia what presents she had received for her birthday. The young witch had been so stunned that someone knew it was her birthday that she had answered honestly. She'd said she hadn't received anything, to which Aunt Petunia had replied in a very nauseatingly sweet voice that she had simply forgotten about the two presents she would receive after dinner.

Sure enough, after she'd cleaned the kitchen that night, Aunt Petunia had presented her with a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. A funny lump had formed in her throat when she realized that her aunt had given her presents, even if they were rather pitiful presents. She'd fashioned the wire of the coat hanger into the shape of a doll and had used Uncle Vernon's black socks to make her a dress and some hair. She'd slept with the doll until Dudley discovered it one morning as Uncle Vernon dragged her from her cupboard. Her uncle had beaten her for ruining a perfectly good coat hanger, and she'd never seen Dolly again.

Hagrid's gift on her eleventh birthday had gone well beyond a squashed though delicious chocolate cake. He had told her that she was a witch, and that was about the best birthday present she could think of. It was a good thing, too because the next year Dobby had stolen all of her cards and any presents that her friends might have sent for her birthday. It was her most disappointing birthday ever, although the time she had spent at the Weasleys had almost made up for it.

And, last year . . . . She couldn't remember much about last year's birthday. She knew she had reached the age of thirteen before the Professor had arrived on the Dursleys' doorstep, but come to think of it, she didn't remember waking up at midnight at all. She couldn't even remember if she had received any presents. The months of June and July were oddly hazy in her recollection. If she thought about that time much at all, she experienced a crushing despair that threatened to drown her.

The more she tried to remember, the more she despaired. She felt dirty, as if she'd spent the day pulling weeds in the garden under a very hot sun. She had to get clean. With no regard for the lateness of the hour, she hopped out of bed, grabbed some clothes and made a beeline for the shower. Surely if she scrubbed hard enough, the dirty feeling would go away.

* * *

A night owl at heart, Severus had been in his bedroom writing an article on the side effects of the Wit Sharpening Potion when he heard the water running in Rose's bathroom. He didn't think much of it until the pipes started to knock as the hot water ran longer than the old water heater's capacity. Only then did he wonder what was amiss. Stridently, he rapped on the door.

"Rose? Is something the matter?"

The water abruptly cut off. "No, I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you up, Professor. Don't worry about me. I'll be out in a bit. You can go back to bed."

"The lady doth protest too much," he muttered as he waited patiently for her to leave the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he still waited.

"Rose? What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," but her voice trembled and she burst into tears.

That was more than enough for Snape. "You are decidedly not fine. I'm giving you thirty seconds to make yourself decent, and then I am opening this door. Do you I make myself clear, Rose?"

The only response he received was renewed sobbing. Twenty-nine seconds later, he opened the door to find the distraught teen sitting on the floor hugging herself as she cried. Dressed only in pants and a bra, every inch of skin she had been able to reach was scrubbed raw. Several spots on her arms and thighs had been scratched deeply enough to draw blood.

"Oh, Rose." Pulling her up, he draped a dry towel across her back before leading her to her bedroom. There, she cried against his shoulder for another twenty minutes before gradually calming, although her breaths came in hiccupping gasps.

"Do not move. I will return momentarily."

When he returned less than three minutes later, she sat in the exact same spot on the bed. Methodically, he spread a thick yellow paste on her raw skin. Although he knew it stung, she didn't react at all, and he was unpleasantly reminded of the time he had woken up after Pettigrew's attack to find her unresponsive in Minerva's office.

"Rose. Tell me what happened. Please."

With a deep, shuddering breath, she did, though the telling was difficult for the both of them.

"It's my birthday. I usually wake up at midnight on my birthday. Only, this time, I couldn't remember my last birthday. It's . . . I remember having one. I simply can't remember anything but sitting."

"Sitting?"

Petunia had said she feared the girl's spirit had been broken; he had no idea she had come so close to the truth. Encouragingly, he squeezed her hand, and she gave him a brief squeeze in return.

"Weird, huh? I remember sitting on my bed, sitting and thinking nothing mattered. That's all I remember doing until you took me away. Only, the more I tried to remember, the worse I felt, until I felt dirty, on the inside. I thought if I took a shower, I could get clean, but the feeling stayed no matter how hard I tried to wash it away. And, then you were calling my name and I saw that I'd pretty much scoured my skin. Honestly, Professor, I hadn't even realized I'd done it. It scared me."

He patted her back since it was relatively unscathed. Of course it had scared her; it had terrified him. "Do you still feel that way?"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I should probably get some sleep."

"Rose, you didn't answer my question."

He hated the half-hearted shrug he received in response, though it told him enough. She surprised him a moment later with her candor.

"Not as often as I used to. Hermione had to pull me out of the shower an awful lot last year. She was really nice about it, though. But, that's Hermione; she's always nice."

"Miss Granger is indeed a true friend." And, definitely someone he should have paid more attention to. He was going to have a long talk with Hermione Granger as soon as school began.

"Do you think she could visit this summer?"

Rose was unsuccessfully trying to switch the topic, but he thought it a wonderful suggestion and an effective carrot. "I shall ask her parents if you make a bargain with me."

"What type of bargain?"

That you promise to tell me if these feelings recur—before you decide to deal with the situation yourself."

After a few seconds musing, she nodded. "Deal, Professor. Guess I made a mess of my birthday, huh?"

"Hardly. Your birthday has barely begun. In fact, get dressed and meet me downstairs. Since we're both awake, you may as well open your present."

The thought of opening a birthday present cheered her considerably. Not five minutes later she appeared in the sitting room dressed in loose-fitting shorts and a t-shirt. Already, her skin had started to heal. Excitedly, she eyed the golden box waiting for her on the sofa.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see."

Taking off the lid, she revealed a bundle of cloth that might fit inside a pocket, a lone purple glove encased in a glass jar, and a glittering, golden envelope. Slitting open the envelope, she pulled out a piece of parchment with two large tickets attached and eagerly began to read.

_Professor Snape,_

_Enclosed you will find your Deluxe Quidditch World Cup Vacation Package. As you requested, the tickets are located in the top row. The tent has been pre-shrunk for your packing convenience, and the enclosed portkey will be activated precisely at 10:45 AM on Sunday, August 21__st__. _

There was more, but she had stopped reading to jump up and down.

"I can't believe it! Thank you, thank you, Professor! Wait until I tell Draco! And Ron! He'll be so jealous! Oh, this is brilliant! I can hardly believe it!"

As he watched her jubilation, it was tempting to ignore the smell of the healing salve on her skin. But, he couldn't, not when she was so clever at hiding her pain. Wishing her a happy birthday, he suddenly was grateful to Black. She deserved a spectacular party, one that would wipe away a decade of disappointment. And, in a few hours, she would get just that.

* * *

"Neville!"

Standing in the entrance hall of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Rose exuberantly welcomed fellow Gryffindor Neville Longbottom to her not-quite surprise birthday party. Since Sirius was in the midst of a conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the daunting task of greeting Augusta Longbottom—vulture hat and all—fell to Severus.

"Mrs. Longbottom."

"Professor Snape."

Augusta sniffed as if she had smelled something foul, but the Potions Master was used to the disdain of others and took no offense. Considering his treatment of her grandson, she was well within her right to snub him.

"I see someone has finally managed to silence Wallburga. A pity no one thought to encase her in concrete while she lived."

In spite of himself, Snape cracked a tight smile as he gazed upon the graffiti covered concrete. The house-elf Kreacher had almost had a heart attack upon seeing his beloved Mistress so thoroughly concealed, but everyone else thought it a great achievement.

"Indeed, Madam."

The intimidating witch then gazed upwards at the flashing streamers and suspended confetti. Her lips pursed into a frown, though he couldn't be sure if she disapproved of the decorations or had merely reverted to her usual expression. Imperiously, she interrupted Neville's account of his summer to pull him into the dining room. Rose stared curiously at her retreating figure until the doorbell rang again.

The next guests to arrive were the Weasleys, which meant that Severus had to endure hugs and kisses from Molly as the Weasley children crowded around Rose. Before she could embarrass him too much, Sirius had made his way to the group.

"Molly! Arthur! The last time I saw you, the twins were in nappies!"

Fred and George laughed good-naturedly with the rest as Sirius invited them upstairs. As the entrance hall filled with guests, it quickly became apparent that Rose didn't know everyone at the party, especially the adults. Unobtrusively, Severus hovered by her side to whisper their names and significance in her ear.

"Elphias Doge is a contemporary of the Headmaster. Your father had dealings with him. . . . . Sturgis Podmore was two years ahead of us in school. . . . . Emmaline Vance works for the Ministry . . . ."

Hagrid's arrival forced him from her side. The half-giant picked her up in a tight hug before setting her down to hand her a large photo album.

"Thought yeh might like this to go 'long wit teh other."

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said with a choked smile, obviously blinking back tears.

The big man smiled, affectionately patting her on the head. "Well, t'were either that or a fire crab, but I didn' want teh Professor here to use its shell for a cauldron, so I thought it better be the book."

"Good thinking," she agreed as her friend enthusiastically waved to Poppy Pomfrey before making his way to the food in the dining room. Snape took the leather album out of Rose's hands as she turned to greet more guests. Idly, he flipped through its pages.

There were far more pictures of him than he thought possible. Some, like the photo of himself accepting the trophy for the Hogwarts Dueling Club, brought back surprisingly contented memories. Others, like the one Albus had insisted on taking at Christmas, brought a surge of emotion strong enough to make him to hastily rub his eyes. Standing as closely to him as she could in the group photo, Rose looked radiant, even with that idiot Weasley chasing the Rat in the background. There were also pictures of Rose with her friends and Sirius. He particularly liked the one with Rose, Hermione, Ron and Ginny skipping rocks into the lake at Hogwarts. She seemed particularly happy and relaxed.

Completely immersed in the contents of the album, Snape didn't notice the approaching wizard. Only Rose's small gasp alerted him to anything amiss. Looking up into the mismatched eyes of the man limping towards them, he took an involuntary step in front of his daughter.

"If I'd have been a threat, you would have been pitifully late, Snape. A guardian's supposed to guard, not get distracted by pretty pictures. Though, I have to wonder if you aren't simply a fox in sheep's clothing."

His magical eye seeing right through the Potions Master, he abruptly addressed Rose before stomping off. "Constant vigilance, Miss Potter! Constant vigilance!"

"Who was that?" she hissed urgently as Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet walked towards her.

"Alastor Moody. He's a retired Auror." Before she could ask the obvious follow up question, he whispered back, "We shall discuss it later."

She nodded and then acted excited to see her Quidditch teammates. Snape had the urge to hex Moody. Rose's smile was now forced and she tugged on her charm bracelet in between greetings. Only Hermione Granger's arrival twenty minutes later put her back at ease.

Miss Granger had brought her parents, who looked ridiculously out of place in such a fantastic setting. They stared inquisitively at the decor and people, but seemed warm and friendly. Pleased to have the opportunity to seal his bargain with Rose, he looked forward to speaking to the Grangers.

"Mum, Dad, this is Rose's new dad, Professor Snape. He's my Potions teacher at Hogwarts."

"You're the Chemistry teacher. Hermione has told us how demanding you can be. From my daughter, that's quite the compliment."

Still wrapping his mind around the matter of face way Hermione had introduced him as Rose's father, it took a moment for Severus to respond. When, he did, the Gryffindor know-it-all blushed beet red.

"Miss Granger is one of the most academically talented witches I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. Her preparation and thorough grounding in the subject matter are without equal."

"I'm so glad to hear that, Professor. Walter and I had serious reservations when we were informed that Hermione was a witch. We hoped her intellectual talent wouldn't go to waste. If she can't be a dentist, perhaps she can be a chemist."

Ignoring the woman's repeated misuse of the word chemistry in place of Potions, Severus simply agreed that it would be a shame to waste such talents. Then, he made a more fatherly request.

"Rose had hoped that Hermione could visit for a week in late August. If it's convenient, I could take the girls to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies."

Mary Granger suddenly wouldn't look him in the eye. "Will your wife be away then as well?"

"I am not married."

"I see. Perhaps it would be easier if we invite Rose to spend some time with Hermione, then. I'm sure as a single parent, you would appreciate some time to yourself."

Only Rose's hand on his arm prevented him from telling the dentist three different reasons why she shouldn't presume to be sure about anything. Instead, he gave the two girls an apologetic glance.

"Regrettably, it would be best if Rose did not travel this summer. Perhaps next year."

"Anytime," Walter Granger agreed. "Hermione, honey, why don't we find the Weasleys? I brought the drill bit Mr. Weasley asked to see."

When he patronizingly began to explain what a drill bit was and its use in dentistry, his bushy-haired daughter flushed again.

"Dad! I'm sure Professor Snape knows what a drill bit is!"

"Of course, honey, I should have known that. He looks like the most normal magical person I've seen here, even if he reminds me of those Goth fre-."

"Dad!"

Rose cringed at Mr. Granger's reply, and Severus was happy to see Hermione swiftly lead them up the stairs towards the drawing room.

"I'm sorry Rose."

"That's okay, Professor," she replied with false cheer as she fingered her charm bracelet. "And, don't worry. I'll still tell you if . . . you know." Before he could respond, she anxiously asked, "Do you think Hermione's parents are the types who think we're all freaks?"

"You're not a freak," he reminded her sharply. Taking a deep breath, he spoke more calmly. "From their perspective we are odd. Though, I can only hope to be present when Dr. Granger meets Augusta Longbottom. He'll most likely ask her if the vulture can speak."

Snorting with laughter, Rose turned to hug the Patil twins, and Severus breathed deeply, glad that the insensitive Muggles hadn't ruined her good mood.

Forty-five minutes later, Grimmauld Place was practically overrun with partygoers. Rose, however, continued her vigil at the door, refusing several offers to join her guests. As the DJ began to play dance tunes in the music room, Severus knew her wait would be a fruitless one.

"You're missing your party."

"Just a few more minutes, Professor."

"He's not coming, Rose. Sirius explained to you that Narcissa had a setback. I'm sure he'd be here if he could."

She stared at the door for a long minute. "I know. I just . . . . You don't think he's embarrassed to be seen with me, do you, Professor? I mean, he's a Slytherin, and I'm, well . . . ."

"What?" he asked dryly. "His friend? A pretty girl? I think he's proven his loyalty, don't you? He's spending the night at St. Mungo's because his mother needs him, nothing more."

"Yeah." Brightening, she grabbed his hand. "You know, Professor, I've never seen you dance."

"There is an excellent reason for that."

"What?" Her eyes were wide and far too innocent. "Goths don't know how to dance?"

Choking back a smirk, he replied with a disdainful sniff worthy of Augusta Longbottom. "Miss Potter, I'll have you know that I am not a Goth. I am definitely a bat. And, bats most decidedly do not dance."

Grinning, she led him into the music room. "I can't wait to tell Sirius that Hermione's dad called you a Goth."

He froze. "You wouldn't."

"Care to dance, Professor Snape?"

It appeared as if he had no choice. "Remind me why you weren't sorted into Slytherin?"

"I asked the Sorting Hat not to."

As the music blared, he decided that made perfect sense.


	6. The Professor Dances

**Author's Notes** - Hi! I'd like to thank everyone who was kind enough to review after I posted the last chapter. I really appreciated the words of encouragement. I'd also like to take the time to thank Rumour of an Alchemist, who has been keeping me on my toes by pointing out the times my spelling or grammar isn't quite right. It's flattering to think that anyone takes the time to read my work with such attention to detail, and I really do strive to keep the mistakes to a minimum as a result. (Not that I always suceed!) Also, a big thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this story enough to put me on Alert or Favorites. I might not update as quickly as I would like, but I do update.

As for the chapter, it's a continuation of Rose's birthday party, with a little dancing on the side. As a Doctor Who fan, I couldn't help but borrow from one of the episodes for the chapter title. I thought it appropriate. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Get down here, George! You have to see this!"

"In a minute. Neville's eaten a Ton-Tongue toffee!"

"Forget that! Snape's dancing!"

"What?!"

A half-dozen Gryffindors pounded down the stairs after Fred Weasley. Sure enough, Professor Snape danced to a retro disco beat. Crowding at the door, the teens gaped.

"It looks like he's being Cruciated."

Hermione immediately came to his defense. "Ron! How can you say that? He's dancing with Rose."

"And doing an awful job of it," George said forthrightly. "This is probably a first for him."

"Where's Colin Creevey when you need him?" Parvati groused.

"No way, no pictures," Ron replied with a shudder. "Unless you want us all to fail Potions next year."

"He's glaring at us," Ginny pointed out.

Angelina Johnson took Fred's hand. "Nothing else for it, then. We'd better join them before he decides to jinx us."

As the room filled, Severus took the opportunity to slip away. He'd had enough dancing to last a lifetime—two, if the truth be told. As casually as he could, he walked into the dining room to sample the savory foods Dobby had prepared in spite of Kreacher's best efforts to sabotage the party.

The Black's house-elf had quickly become a problem. He barely obeyed orders put to him. When he did, his finished product could be labeled slipshod if one were being generous. Draco had lost patience with the creature weeks ago, pointedly ignoring Kreacher's presence and the vile pureblood mutterings that came from its mouth. Sirius didn't help matters by sinking to his level. The Marauder had not completely lost his childish tendencies and seemed to enjoy arguing with Kreacher rather than ordering him to behave.

"That was very kind of you, Severus."

Pulled out of his thoughts, the Potions Master quickly swallowed the rest of his scotch egg to speak to Minerva McGonagall.

"Yes, it seems I now have the ability to act the fool. I'm sure Albus will think this a major breakthrough. A pity you aren't going to tell him."

Smiling devilishly, she held a photograph in her hand. "Perhaps not, but then a picture is worth a thousand words."

Snape groaned aloud. Really, his Gryffindor cohort could be very Slytherin at times. "What price for the photo, Minerva?"

"Agree to chaperone the Yule Ball and I'll be happy to give it to you. I'm sure Rose would like it for the album Hagrid gave her."

For a moment, he didn't react. The Yule Ball hadn't been held at Hogwarts in many years, so many that he had been a student for the last one. The memories it brought back weren't good ones, and he could only hope that Rose would have a better time than he had. Considering her popularity, however, he suspected she would.

"Let me guess. This is another attempt by the Headmaster to promote unity. Isn't the Tournament enough?"

"I wish it was," she readily agreed. "Then I wouldn't be burdened with organizing a proper dance with less than six months' notice. Do you know how difficult it is to hire a decent band at this late date? Not to mention the fact that very few of the students know how to dance properly. I do not relish having some clumsy boy stepping on my toes as I give instruction. What was Albus thinking?"

Not wishing to encourage what threatened to grow into a major rant, he quickly acceded to her demand. As he pocketed the photograph, though, he couldn't help but have the last word.

"You know, your skills in extortion leave much to be desired. I would have chaperoned regardless to keep some boy from dragging Rose into the shrubbery for a kiss if nothing else. Nevertheless, I thank you for the picture."

McGonagall's eyes sparkled with amusement as she pulled a second picture from her robes. "You're welcome, Severus. I do apologize, though. I must have forgotten to mention that there is more than one photo. Perhaps you will allow me to improve my skills this time?"

He took a bite of egg. Damn insufferable witch! She had bested him again! As they amiably haggled over the price of the second photo, he couldn't help but grin. If Minerva were thirty years younger, Narcissa might have found herself with a rival. As it was, his friend finagled a promise that he see to hiring the band for the Yule Ball, though he had no idea how to accomplish such a feat.

The concession was well timed. As he pocketed the evidence, Black skidded to a halt next to him, an eager grin on his face.

"Where are they? Neville told Augusta you'd been dancing, and I know McGonagall wouldn't let such an opportunity go to waste."

When neither reacted with anything but bemusement, he resorted to whinging. "Oh, come on! Moody had me cornered in the kitchen. He insisted on checking the food for tampering. Once he found nothing wrong, he gave me a thirty minute lecture about inviting so many people to Rose's party! Said I had a blatant disregard for her safety. What was I supposed to do? Limit the guest list to the Weasleys? I'll admit that the twins are good for some fun and Bill's a force unto himself, but the rest of Molly's brood can be a little on the dull side, especially Percy."

While Severus privately thought Black was spot on about the Weasleys, he wasn't about to give the wizard the satisfaction of agreeing with him publically. Instead, he addressed Moody's concern.

"Admit it, Black. This party's for your benefit as much as Rose. I had to introduce her to most of the people here, including Alastor Moody."

The Marauder didn't bother denying it. "After Azkaban I deserve a party. Besides, everyone here knew James and Lily in some manner. It's only fair they have an opportunity to meet Rose."

Snape disagreed, but before he could voice his opinion, the doorbell rang. Before they could do more than take a few steps towards the entrance hall, they heard the creaky sound of the heavy oak door being opened.

From Rose's excited exclamation, he knew that the guest was a welcome one. Thinking that Albus had consented to make an appearance, he and Black stayed in the dining room as she welcomed the latecomer inside.

"Bloody hell, Rose! What are you doing holding hands with that git?"

At Ronald Weasley's loud exclamation of disgust, the two wizards raced into the entrance hall ready to break up the anticipated brawl between the outraged Gryffindor and Draco Malfoy. As Severus reached the teens, he stopped short, his throat suddenly gone dry.

Not one latecomer, but two—Narcissa Malfoy stood behind the young couple, her drawn features hidden by some expertly applied charms and cosmetics. She wore elegant tailored pastel green robes that thoroughly hid the scars on her wrist, and he thought her stunningly beautiful.

Rose's hiss of indignation brought the world back into focus. He tore his eyes away from Narcissa to glance at the teen. His daughter's eyes mirrored Lily's steely glint at her angriest while her chin jutted out like Potter's at his most arrogant. He had to admit it was a fearsome combination.

"The only git I see here is you, Ron! Rest assured, I have no desire to hold your hand!"

With that, she turned politely to Draco, a strained smile on her face.

"Sirius said Dobby made angels on horseback. I thought I'd give them a try. Are you hungry, Draco?"

Severus didn't hear the boy's reply as Rose led the the Slytherin towards the dining room. Most of her friends shared shrugs and significant looks as they followed the birthday girl. Hermione, however, tugged Ronald Weasley into the temporarily abandoned music room. Her urgent whispers caused her recalcitrant friend to redden, in anger rather than shame. When the Patil twins rushed to Weasley's side, he vowed to somehow reward the Granger girl for her loyalty.

When the adolescents left, only curious adults remained. A crowd had been drawn by the loud altercation, and now they stared openly at Narcissa as if she were an escaped exhibit from a freak show. In a flash, her confidence faltered; she all but cowered at the door. Of one mind, Black and Snape immediately sought to diffuse the ugly inquisitiveness that had temporarily taken hold over people old enough to know better.

"Cissy!" Rather publically, Sirius kissed her on both cheeks. "What a delight to see you! Do you like what I've done to the place?"

Gazing at the concrete encasing Wallburga Black's portrait, she managed a small nod and a tremulous smile. Her eyes, however, still had that trapped, desperate look about them that had haunted her in the hospital. As Black led her further into the hallway, Severus vowed to change that.

Stepping in front of Narcissa, Snape also kissed her cheeks, although his embrace lingered more than friendship required. Wrapping his arm nonchalantly around her waist, he smiled encouragingly as she took a deep breath to compose herself once more.

"Would you care for some refreshments? Dobby has outdone himself in preparing the food, which is fortunate because Sirius and I are rubbish cooks."

Leading her through the crowd, he glowered at anyone hapless enough to meet his gaze. He would have been quite content to ignore everyone with equal disdain, but Sirius had other ideas.

"Molly! Arthur! Enjoying the party?"

"Yes," the Weasley matron answered with a sickly smile. "It's a very nice party, isn't it, Arthur?"

For once, Arthur Weasley appeared to be much more enthusiastic than his wife. "Smashing party, Sirius. The fire-eaters upstairs are first-rate."

Then, he brightly addressed his other cousin. "It's so good to see you, Narcissa. You look lovely; although I must say I had no idea my son had such a rival for Rose's affection. I do apologize for Ron; he oftentimes speaks before he thinks."

Snape relaxed slightly as Narcissa lost the desperation in her eyes to smile at Arthur Weasley. "Boys will be boys. Think nothing of it, Arthur. Rose has been a dear friend to Draco during a very difficult time."

The allusion to Lucius Malfoy's death and her hospitalization cast a pall on the conversation. Even Sirius' mad grin couldn't break the awkward tension that had suddenly developed. Thankfully, an outside force intervened when an all too familiar witch sporting bubblegum pink hair stumbled into Sirius, who caught her before she could fall over.

"Thanks, Sirius, tripped over my own two feet," she said brightly as she smoothed out her purple robes.

Taking a moment to study the group, she grinned cheerfully. "Professor Snape! Just the wizard I wanted to see. And, you must be Aunt Narcissa. Mum's told me loads about you. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet you earlier. Auror training only ended yesterday."

Narcissa greeted her grown niece warmly. "You must be Nymphadora. My sister is so proud of your accomplishments. She spoke of you nearly every day. Perhaps we can all sit down to dinner sometime. It's wonderful to be allowed to speak to family again."

She chatted on blithely, hardly understanding how much she had given away with that one sentence. Even Molly thawed towards her. As Narcissa, Sirius, the young Auror and Arthur avidly discussed the holes on the Black family tree, Severus grew increasingly impatient.

"Pardon the interruption, but was there a specific reason you wished to see me, Miss Tonks?"

Her hair suddenly turned the color of her cheeks—flaming red. "Oh! Sorry, Professor. It completely slipped my mind. Draco thought you might know if Rose is allergic to shrimp? I mean, when I left she was all red in the face and neck, but she was breathing okay."

With barely suppressed rage, he managed a curt, "Excuse me," before racing into the dining room. He needn't have bothered. Yes, Rose looked to be having a moderate allergic reaction (he made a mental note to keep shrimp off the menu), but Fred and George Weasley stood on either side of her while Draco explained to Madame Pomfrey the onset of her symptoms. It appeared that he wasn't needed after all.

He might not be needed, but he was wanted. Rose waved him to her before he could rejoin the group in the entryway.

"Of all the rotten luck," she muttered thickly as the Hogwarts school matron placed a hand on her inflamed cheek. "Please, Professor, I really don't want to take a potion for allergies. This is the first birthday I've actually enjoyed. I don't want to fall asleep in the midst of it."

Glancing inquiringly at Poppy, Snape raised an eyebrow. The middle-aged witch gave the matter some thought before reluctantly agreeing.

"I suppose if someone closely monitors Miss Potter, there is no need for her to take the potion now."

"We'll watch her," George immediately offered. "You can give us the potion just in case her reaction gets worse."

Fred nodded eagerly, including Draco in the 'we'. "With the three of us watching, we're bound to notice if she suddenly can't breathe. What do you say, Professor?"

"Don't worry. Really, Professor. I'm fine." Rose's assurance would have had a greater impact, but her lips were so swollen that he could barely understand her. Still, he didn't wish to disappoint, especially tonight. He'd never had a birthday party as a child, but his mother had often baked him a birthday cake, and even Tobias had occasionally come home with a cheap toy in his hand. Petunia had done less than nothing for Rose.

His anger at the Dursleys flared anew, Vernon Dursley in particular. The bully of a man had been left unpunished for long enough. Before the start of term, he would pay a visit to Privet Drive. Though he longed to give the brutal Muggle the thrashing he so richly deserved, Severus had something rather more sinister in mind.

Pushing thoughts of vengeance aside, he focused on the birthday witch. "Your face is in no way the definition of fine, Rose. And, I always worry. However, it is your birthday, and I don't relish the idea of you sleeping through your party any more than you do. Promise me to take the potion if it gets worse."

"She'll take it if she needs it, Professor. You have my word on that."

Rose did a fair imitation of Hermione, muttering "boys" under her breath at Draco's assertion, but she did promise to take the potion if the swelling worsened. Then, she hugged him in a not so subtle sign of dismissal. Poppy couldn't hide her grin as his ward pointedly told them both that she hoped they enjoyed the rest of the party. The school matron handed the potion to Fred Weasley before retreating to the far end of the dining room to sample some pasties.

Warning the three boys to inform him should they administer the potion, Snape began to walk away. He wondered how the twins had come to accept Rose's new Slytherin friend so quickly while their brother still fumed in the music room. Curious, he strained to hear their conversation as he slowed his pace.

"You think Madame Pomfrey will miss the potion if George and I nick it?"

"What could you possibly want with a potion like that, Weasley?"

"We've been working on some joke products all year long, Malfoy. Some of the ingredients can induce odd reactions. An Anti-Allergy Potion might be just the thing to counteract some of the more troubling side effects."

With a look of sly amusement, George offered him a toffee. Draco stared at it like it might burn through his hand.

"You don't actually expect me to eat that after what you've told me, do you?"

"No," the sixth-year answered, unperturbed. "But, we thought it might be fun if Sirius ate it. You have any ideas about how to accomplish that?"

"If he doesn't I might," Rose lisped.

Snape quickened his pace. He didn't wish to hear any more. There was something to be said for plausible deniability.

* * *

Several hours later, Rose blew out the candles on the largest birthday cake Severus had ever seen. Her face, thankfully, had returned to its original size and color, although she had stayed away from the nibbles after the incident with the shrimp. It didn't surprise him, then, when she put a generous slice of chocolate cake on a plate. It shocked him, however, that she approached Narcissa to offer it to her.

"Would you like some cake, Mrs. Malfoy? The Professor told me the food was horrible at St. Mungo's."

The blonde witch took the offering graciously—and very gratefully. Although she'd never left Severus' side, her earlier confident poise had fled.

"That's very kind of you, Rose. But, please call me Cissy."

"I wanted to thank you for letting Draco come to my party." After a tiny pause, she added a little self-consciously, "Cissy."

Rose truly was a remarkable young witch. She must know how difficult it was for Narcissa to appear in public the very evening of her release from St. Mungo's. It was very kind of her to make the effort to be seen talking to Lucius Malfoy's widow in public. If that didn't curtail some of the wild rumors about the widow Malfoy, Severus didn't think anything could.

Draco soon joined them, carrying a plate for both Rose and himself, although he was polite enough to ask his Potions professor if he would like a piece before he took a bite. Narcissa listened attentively to Rose as she enthusiastically informed Draco that she would be attending the Quidditch World Cup.

Hermione, bless her, was the first of Rose's friends to approach them. Severus had to admire her bravery. Draco had been less than amicable towards the Muggleborn witch, and not all of it had been an act. Lucius had hammered enough pureblood drivel in the boy's head that the young Malfoy heir resented the bushy-haired girl's scholastic achievements.

Without waiting to be introduced, she calmly addressed Narcissa. "I'm Hermione Granger, Mrs. Malfoy. Your son and I are in the same year."

Narcissa's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "Yes, I know who you are, Miss Granger. Draco's letters home are usually filled with talk of you as much as Rose. Please, call me Cissy."

Draco choked on a bite of cake. Both witches ignored him. "Then you must call me Hermione. A pleasure to meet you, Cissy."

"And, you as well, Hermione."

Rose's hand covered her mouth as silent laughter shook her frame. Snape couldn't help but notice that she deliberately trod on Draco's foot when the conversation paused. The blonde boy gave her an aggrieved look before loudly clearing his throat.

"Nice to see you, Granger." He paused for a second, but Rose's glare spurred him onwards, although his manner became much more self-conscious. "I should probably apologize, for . . . what I said last year."

"Yes, you should," she replied coldly. Then, she and Rose engaged in a mysterious, silent communication that concluded in the space of a second. Letting out a huff of air, she answered much more tactfully.

"I'll try to forget it if you do."

"Yeah, okay," the Slytherin replied, a mixture of relief and suspicion in his voice.

Rose beamed, no doubt pleased that two of her friends had agreed to bury the hatchet. Without acknowledging the significance of the moment, Hermione carried on with the conversation.

"The cake was wonderful, don't you think?"

"It was brilliant! I'll always remember it as my first birthday party cake since Hagrid gave me my first birthday cake the night he delivered my Hogwarts letter."

"Are you having me on, Potter? You didn't get a birthday cake until you turned eleven?"

Shrugging, she explained. "Well, the year before, my relatives gave me a coat hanger and a pair of my uncle's old socks. They probably thought that two presents should carry over into the next year."

Severus couldn't believe the lack of sarcasm in her voice. Why wasn't she bitter? Hermione, he noted, had trouble hiding her dismay, though she didn't seem surprised. Narcissa sympathetically squeezed his hand while her son had no problem expressing his outrage.

"Your relatives are mental. You know that, don't you? I hope the Professor showed them a thing or two."

The boy's comment stunned Rose. "Why would he do that? It's not their fault they were burdened with me. I mean, sure, they could have treated me a bit nicer, but they gave me a home when no one in the wizarding world wanted me. Sirius was in prison, and Professor Snape . . . Professor Snape wasn't able. I'm lucky I didn't end up in an orphanage."

"In an orphanage? Are you insane, Potter? Families would have fought for the privilege of raising you. You're the bloody Girl-Who-Lived! Why would you—?"

Narcissa interrupted before her son could distress Rose further. "I think what my son is trying to say is that he wishes that someone had baked you a cake long before you turned eleven. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco, however, wasn't finished. "You deserve more than a cake on your birthday, Rose. Those Muggles were lucky to have you, not the other way around."

Flushing, she ducked her head at the compliment cloaked in his retort, and the Dursleys were soon forgotten to everyone but Snape. George and Fred ambled over to the group, a spark of mischief in their eyes, which made Severus extremely wary until he understood it was currently directed at their younger brother. Angelina Johnson joined them a few minutes later, as did Neville Longbottom, which surprised and impressed the Potions Master.

The group discussed their summer holidays until Sirius announced that the fireworks would begin momentarily. As the teens pestered an easily persuaded Black to be allowed on the roof, Severus led Narcissa to the darkened music room on the opposite side of the entrance hall.

The DJ had left over an hour ago, leaving the room quiet and empty. With a flick of his wand, Severus lit the candelabra on the grand piano and the sconces on the walls. In the soft light, Narcissa seemed ethereal; her opalescent green robes fluttered in the nighttime breeze like a cloud of butterflies. As he brushed his thumb tenderly across her cheek, she gazed upwards. Their eyes met and their lips followed as she proved to him that she was most decidedly real.

The sounds of the piano wafted throughout the room, and the couple swayed to the music, content for a time to exist in each other's arms.

"I wish you had told me you were being discharged. You and Draco should not have had to face Malfoy Manor alone."

Resting her head against his chest, she didn't reply.

"Narcissa?"

"I wasn't," she quietly confessed as she tightened her grip around his waist.

As the meaning of her words became clear, he couldn't contain his exultation. She had passed Wellby's ultimate test, and he vowed to block any attempt by the healer or the hospital to return her to that sad, bleak room. He kissed her with a hunger that banished all her fears. Much like the night she had stolen into his hospital room, they were both left aching for more.

"Stay with me."

"You know I can't. Not yet, Severus. It's too soon. I'll not have your reputation ruined by idle gossip. You have your position at Hogwarts to consider."

"Just tonight, then. No one will be the wiser."

"Draco—"

"May stay here, just as he has all these weeks."

A hint of amusement seasoned her voice. "Have you forgotten Rose so quickly? Surely you don't wish her to know exactly what goes on when 'a witch and wizard care for each other very much'.

"She can stay here as well," he replied reasonably, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth. Narcissa had been very amused by his account of the awkward conversation he and Rose had had about sex after Molly Weasley's attempt to explain the birds and the bees. It had led to an enjoyable afternoon of speculation about the gist of "the talk" in various wizarding families.

Her demeanor slowly changed to one of anxiety. "It's too dangerous. Someone might see. What if we get caught? I won't have you punished on my account. I won't."

Hiding his disappointment, he took her hands in his. "I understand. Promise me, though, that you will not return to Malfoy Manor at this late hour. At least sleep here tonight."

"Yes, Cissy, I insist." Sauntering into the room, Sirius flicked his wand to change the piano's tune from a waltz to something more spirited. "Sorry, I didn't intend to eavesdrop."

Snape was not amused. "Clearly, you did."

Chuckling, the rangy wizard spread out his hands. "You wound me, Severus. I had no idea you two had snuck off to a quiet corner. I'm avoiding Moody—again. He seems to think we should have dosed Rose with an Anti-Allergy Potion before the party as a precaution. I didn't bother explaining to him that before today we had no idea Rosie had a food allergy. I swear if Dumbledore weren't considering him for the Defense position I wouldn't have invited him. He's always been something of a wet blanket."

Blanching, Narcissa folded her arms across her chest. "Why would Dumbledore give the Defense position to a paranoid ex-Auror? What aren't you two telling me?"

Cursing the other wizard under his breath, Severus gently pulled her arms apart. "The Headmaster has considered several candidates for the Defense position, Narcissa. Alastor Moody is simply one of several."

With a pang of remorse, he then did what he had always done best, entwine facts with a lie in order to twist it into a believable truth. "Igor Karkaroff is currently Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute. Likely Moody would be hired for the year to cow that idiot during the TriWizard Tournament."

"Igor is an idiot," she replied warmly. "Forgive me for being silly."

Guilt gnawed at his earlier contentment. "There's nothing to forgive. I had similar concerns. I promise to look after Draco this year as much as Rose. I won't let anything happen to him."

"I know you won't."

Oblivious to Black's presence, he sealed his promise with a deep, lingering kiss, which she wholeheartedly returned. His voice husky and his emotions raw, he repeated his earlier entreaty.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Severus, I—"

"Oi, get a room!" Sirius groaned theatrically. "Hey! That's not a bad idea. I've got plenty of rooms. Why don't you both stay here tonight? You can sneak around all you want."

Snape didn't know whether to hex Black or thank him. When Narcissa looked up at him, her eyes beseeching, he decided he owed the wizard a debt of gratitude. Lacing his fingers with hers, he led Narcissa to the stairs so they could join the others before the fireworks faded into nothingness. As the couple passed her overly smug cousin, Severus paused.

"For an arrogant, reckless mutt, you can be quite decent at times, Black."

"Yeah? For an insufferable greasy git, you aren't half bad yourself, Snape."

Narcissa smiled; both men considered it a victory.

* * *

Hours after the last partygoer had taken their leave, a disheveled Severus Snape crept down the stairs towards the kitchen. Barefoot, he made no sound on the carpeted steps, but his presence did not go unnoticed. As he passed the drawing room a voice unexpectedly called out.

"Hell, Snape! How'd you get those scars on your back?"

Gritting his teeth, he walked into the darkened room. Silhouetted by the dim glow of the dying fire, Black appeared pensive and drawn. He'd also been drinking. An empty bottle of red wine and a half-filled wine glass sat on the table next to his chair.

"Have you slept at all?" He asked bluntly.

"No more than you. Though I daresay you've had the better time of it." Before the shirtless wizard could react, he explained. "I thought it would be fun to invite the old gang. But tonight only reminded me that most of the old gang are dead. Only the truly old, the young and those of us unlucky enough to have survived are left. God, I miss them."

Wishing he hadn't strayed from his task, Severus dropped into the chair across from Black. "I never expected you to be a maudlin drunk."

"Yeah, well, Azkaban will do that to you."

"I imagine it would."

For a time, both men stared at the red embers of the fire. Snape wanted to tell Black that with some sleep everything would be better in the morning, but he couldn't get the trite but true platitude out of his mouth. His unexpected friendship with the mutt was based on unspoken agreements and friendly insults, not tender expressions of concern.

"You need to tell her the truth. She deserves to know."

The inebriated wizard's abrupt change of subject left the Potions Master confused. "You're making less sense than usual, Black. Tell whom what?"

"Narcissa. You can't lie to Narcissa, Severus. She deserves to know about Bertha Jorkins and the truth about Rose. You made a promise to her tonight, a promise you know you might not be able to keep. You have to tell her about the Unbreakable Vow."

"Now? You really expect me to burden her with all of that now? You do remember she's just out of hospital?"

"No. Merlin, no. You both deserve—shit, forget I said anything, alright? I'm just pissed and rambling. Haven't a clue about what I'm talking about. I'm sure I'll be better tomorrow. Always darkest before the dawn and all that rot."

Wearily, he rubbed his eyes. No matter how much he rambled, Black did have a valid point.

"I intend to tell her about Bertha Jorkins this weekend. And, you're right. I should tell her about the Vow. As for Draco, I had wondered if he might like to take a mutt to school this year."

The Marauder finally perked up, although he quickly deflated. "Everyone knows I take the form of a big black dog."

"Which is why no one will expect a greyhound or a golden retriever. Take your pick. I've found a few spells that allow the caster to change the appearance of an Animagus so long as it doesn't change the Animagus' nature. You'd still be Grim, you'd just look like a different breed."

"Dumbledore won't like that," he retorted, although his melancholy had been replaced by gleeful expectation.

"No, I imagine not. But, then, I hadn't planned on telling him."

A sloppy grin on his face, Sirius raised his glass. "You always are a few steps ahead of me, Snape. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You'll have to sleep in the Slytherin dorms."

Waving the glass, he appeared unfazed by that aspect of the plan or by the wine that sloshed onto his robes. "Bunch of kids don't scare me. Leastways I won't be useless."

"There is that."

Turning around, Severus continued his trip to the kitchen. Finding it thankfully empty, he rummaged through the leftovers until he had a decent plate of food prepared. Black's loud snoring assaulted his ears as he passed the drawing room. Telling himself that he was simply sparing the wizard a carpet cleaning, he entered the room to take the half-full wineglass out of the sleeping man's hand. Black didn't stir and he left quickly, his thoughts turning to the woman he had left waiting.

Knocking quietly on the door, he discovered that Narcissa had fallen asleep. Her blonde hair splayed wantonly across the pillow, she rested peacefully. With a sigh, he carefully covered her with the blanket. She slept soundly, without the nightmares that usually plagued her, and he wouldn't deny her that. Prudently, he gathered his wayward clothing and returned to his room.

Vanishing the food, he lay upon the cold bed. Although he attempted sleep, he could not achieve such a relaxed state when so many thoughts flew through his head. Eventually, he gave up trying altogether. Instead, he focused on the last few hours, trying his best to etch them indelibly into his memory.


	7. The Dreamcatcher

A scream rent the quiet night air, pulling Severus Snape out of a deep sleep. Snatching his wand from his bedside, he jumped up ready to face an intruder only to find Spinner's End dark and silent. Immediately, he checked the wards around the house, but they were intact and undisturbed. Only then did he rush to Rose's bedroom at the opposite side of the stairwell.

Opening the door without knocking, he found Rose sitting up in bed clutching her scar. A sense of foreboding crept down his spine.

"I heard a scream."

"Me, I think."

Her voice trembled enough that he took the stairs two at a time to retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen. Returning, he handed it to her without speaking, and she drained the contents in one long gulp.

"Thanks, Professor. Bad nightmare, that's all. Sorry to have been a bother."

He'd suspected she had nightmares from time to time. Occasionally, she would trudge down the stairs to breakfast bleary eyed and withdrawn. On those days he didn't bother to suggest she practice Defense, instead he left her alone for the morning before suggesting an outing in the afternoon. Usually, he caught her sleeping in the sitting room at some point during the day, a book left carelessly open in her lap. By her too pale complexion, however, he feared this was a different matter entirely.

"I am awake now and you are obviously troubled. I suggest you save us both time by telling me what your nightmare was about."

She twisted her charm bracelet with such force that the spell he'd placed on it began to unravel. Grabbing her hand before she could break the charm completely, he searched her face. Whatever she had dreamed, it had profoundly disturbed her.

"Rose?"

Crossing her arms, she hunched down as if she wished to hide. When she finally found her voice, he empathized with her reaction.

"It was Voldemort and . . . Wormtail—he called him Wormtail."

He sucked in a noisy lungful of air. "You dreamed of the Dark Lord and Pettigrew?"

Refusing to meet his eye, she shrugged. "I think so. It's all jumbled now. There was another man too, an old man, and a snake. I think they killed him." So softly that he had to strain to hear, she added, "And, they're planning on killing me too."

"I need to see."

The urgent thought inadvertently popped out of his mouth, and she reacted to the request as badly as he had feared.

"See? You mean you can read my mind? Not if I were being chased by a hundred hippogriffs. There is no way I'm letting you see what I'm thinking, Professor. My thoughts are private and they're going to stay that way."

Then, she suspiciously accused, "Is that how you know what I'm thinking sometimes? Because you've been reading my mind?"

Regretting that he hadn't kept a better hold over his tongue, he wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's called Legilimency, Rose, and I have never used it on you. However, it would allow me to see your dream with more clarity than you can currently recall."

"Voldemort can do that too, can't he?"

His entire body stiffened in shock. When he addressed her, though, his voice was deceptively calm and impassive.

"Very few are aware of that fact. How did you learn of it?"

She took his question as an accusation. "I haven't been looking into your mind, if that's what you're thinking, Professor. You told me that you had stared into the eyes of the world's greatest Legilimens and lied to his face."

He had no recollection of telling her anything of the sort, which meant that it must have occurred during her thankfully brief foray into his past. Merlin, but he was an insufferable braggart when drunk.

"I did you no favors by telling you. The Dark Lord zealously guards his secrets."

Her hands once again pressed against her lightning bolt scar. "Yeah? Well, before tonight, I thought I was finally rid of him. I was wrong, though, wasn't I? I mean, he used his wand to kill that man. He must be much stronger than he was before."

Gently pulling her hands away from her forehead, he traced her scar with his finger. She winced, but the mark appeared no redder than normal. Still, he suspected there was a connection between her discomfort and the dream.

"Rose, you must show me. If you're correct about his plans to kill you, I must know everything you saw. It could mean your life."

"You won't look at anything else?"

"The mind is not a like a book which can be opened to a particular page. If you concentrate on the dream, however, it will be much easier to find."

She had hunched down again in bed, and he wondered what she had done to warrant such nervousness.

"It's just . . . . What if you saw me doing something embarrassing, like painting my toenails?"

By her flushed stammer, he guessed that painting her toenails was a euphemism for something else, but he didn't really want to delve into what that could be. To relieve her anxiety, however, he granted her temporary immunity.

"If you allow me to see your dream, I promise to ignore anything else I might accidently see. Does that make you feel better?"

"I guess."

By her expression, it was clear his assurance had not made her feel better, but she had put on a brave face. He wouldn't insult her by coddling her.

"Very well. For Legilimency to work, you must maintain eye contact. As I said, concentrate on the dream and I should be able to find it immediately. If for any reason you begin to experience pain, look away. It will break the connection between us. Do you understand?"

"Ye—yes."

"Then let's begin."

Staring into eyes that reminded him so much of Lily, Snape sought out Rose's dream. It wasn't difficult to find. In fact, she shoved it towards him as if she were playing the children's game of hot potato.

Delving deep into her memories, he soon determined that the dream was too real to be a nightmare. Somehow, Rose had experienced a vision. How else could she know of Bertha Jorkins or her disappearance?

Desperately, he sought Voldemort's plan, but all he heard were jumbled bits of information that made little sense without the proper context. The fact that the Dark Lord planned to kidnap Rose for some nefarious purpose sickened him. Little wonder she had woken with a scream. However, it was the news that the vile wizard had an unknown accomplice which troubled him the most.

Who could be his faithful servant at Hogwarts? Snape had no illusion the Dark Lord referred to him. Whom did Pettigrew plan to kill? Why did the angle of the vision appear to be so low to the ground? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

The Muggle's murder—how had he accomplished it? Voldemort shouldn't possess enough of a corporeal form to use a wand, but he had as he'd killed the old man. Rose had seen his face; he was sure of it. However, she'd blocked it from her conscious memory. Regretting the necessity, he pushed deeper, seeking the information she had repressed.

For the first time, he met resistance. Instinctively, she pushed memory after memory towards him in an effort to hide something more troubling. Ignoring her petty arguments with Ronald Weasley, her irritation at Sirius' insistence on calling her Rosy and her anxiety before Gryffindor Quidditch matches, he searched for the face of the Dark Lord.

He found the mottled face of Vernon Dursley instead. The brutal man towered over a cowering young Rose. She couldn't have been more than eight, although the overly large clothing she wore made her appear to be much younger.

"_What did I tell you, you little freak!? You're not allowed to eat until you finish your chores!"_

"_I'm sorry, Uncle! The sausage dropped onto the floor. I didn't think anyone else would want it."_

_He backhanded her so harshly that she fell over. Sniffling, she rested on her hands and knees, her head bent to avoid his gaze._

_Her tormentor's voice thundered over her. "Admit it; you dropped it on purpose!"_

"_I didn't! I promise!"_

_Suddenly, her nose pressed painfully against the linoleum as he forced her head to the ground._

"_You think you can to act like a dog? Eat the scraps off our floor? Then that's what you'll do, you ungrateful whelp! Marge left some of Ripper's food here after her last visit. You'll eat that for the next week or you'll eat nothing, do you understand?"_

_Rose tried to answer, but Vernon Dursley couldn't hear her with her face pressed so tightly against the ground. Her apparent lack of response only enraged him. The brute stood to viciously kick her in her side. _

Snape experienced the impact through Rose's memories, and then she managed to break eye contact and wrench him out of her mind.

"Get out! Get out! Get out! You've done enough! You don't need to see!

She yelled at him until her voice cracked and sobs wracked her petite frame. Everything, even ascertaining Voldemort's plans, temporarily took a backseat to consoling her. In the end, he gave her a Calming Draught when she couldn't compose herself. Once she had taken the potent brew, he winced to see the spirited teen temporarily transform into an impassive automaton.

"You have no reason to be ashamed, Rose. What Vernon Dursley did to you was reprehensible."

She shrugged in response, her eyes staring vacantly at the poster of Bulgarian Seeker Victor Krum she'd taped to her wall. He hated the blank look on her face. It reminded him of the times she'd sunk into despair after her brutal attack and Obliviation the year prior.

"Now that we know of the Dark Lord's plans, we can take steps to keep you safe. Sirius and I will protect you. We'll do everything in our power to keep him away from you."

She shrugged again, but her emotionless reply chilled him to his bones. "I'm used to Voldemort trying to kill me by now, Professor."

It was too much. His temper snapped under the weight of his own anxieties.

"You may be used to it, but I am effing tired of people trying to kill you! I'd like to transfigure Vernon Dursley into the walrus he is and send him to the zoo, but that would be too good for that shitter! I'd like to turn Albus into a toad and chop him into potion ingredients for ever thinking that Petunia would treat you any better than she treated Lily! If you hadn't been brought up in an environment where you were constantly belittled and abused, you would understand how bloody abnormal it is to have a madman periodically try to murder you!"

Appalled at his outburst, he fled down the stairs. She followed, albeit at a much more orderly pace. Sitting at the kitchen table, she watched him fill the kettle with water.

"I know it's abnormal, Professor. But, if you think about it, I'm pretty much the definition of abnormal. I suppose I thought it evened things out."

It was all he could do not to slam the kettle on the counter. Of course she somehow blamed herself. She took responsibility for her parent's deaths; why not for the Dark Lord's interest? Sadly, it made a twisted sort of sense if one placed an excess of credence in the bloody prophecy. She was the Chosen One, the one with the power to vanquish the madman for good. Her very existence provoked that worm Voldemort.

But she wasn't abnormal or some sort of freak. She had to understand that. Resting his hands against the table as the water boiled, he bowed his head. Merlin, he had fucked it up again. He wasn't angry at her. Rather, he was terrified by his own inadequacies. How could he protect her from the Dark Lord's return when he'd failed to protect her so many times previously?

His hatred of James Potter had blinded him to the signs of her abusive home life. He'd treated her so spitefully that she'd believed him to be after the Philosopher's Stone, sending her straight into Dumbledore's trap for the real culprit, Quirrel. If not for Lily's blood protection, Voldemort would have killed her. The next year he hadn't even been aware of her idiotic foray into the Chamber of Secrets until it was well over. From Dumbledore's account, she had lived only through Fawkes' favor.

Discounting for the moment the vicious attack upon her the previous summer, he'd done an even poorer job protecting her during her third year. She'd nearly been killed by a jealous child and her cohorts, to say nothing of Peter Pettigrew or Lucius Malfoy's protégé, Marcus Flint. If he couldn't protect her from petty jealousy and opportunism, how could he possibly save her from his former master?

As he prepared the tea, the silence strained his ears. Rose generally chattered in the kitchen. Unexpectedly, he missed the sound of her voice.

"Rose, I—"

"It's okay, Professor. You don't have to apologize. I know you're scared."

Biting the inside of his cheek, he managed not to ask how she could be so perceptive of others and so obtuse when it came to herself. Instead, he reassuringly patted her hand.

"That doesn't excuse my outburst, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. At least there is one good thing to have come out of all this."

The potion had doused the usual spark of burning curiosity from her eyes, but Rose retained some semblance of inquisitiveness.

"What?"

"The Dark Lord has no intention of attacking the Quidditch World Cup. It is perfectly safe for us to leave tomorrow afternoon. At least we shall have one proper holiday before facing our yearly stint of mortal peril."

He'd hoped for a grin, perhaps an exaggerated eye roll at his pathetic attempt at humor. Instead, she drank her tea without speaking.

"Rose? Have you reconsidered? I know you must be frightened, but you can't let fear rule your life. He will not attack the match. It is too well guarded."

When she opened her mouth to respond, a huge yawn overtook her. "Sorry. I don't feel much of anything except tired."

He took her empty teacup out of her hand. "That's the Sleeping Potion I added to your tea."

"Oh."

She didn't bother to ask why. They both knew she wouldn't have slept again that night otherwise. Within seconds, she had slumped over the table, her glasses slipping down her nose. He carefully levitated her up the stairs and into her bed. Placing her glasses on the bedside table, he covered her with a blanket before leaving her room.

He didn't go far. Leaning against the wall outside her door, Severus tried to strategize, but it was impossible as his frustration against the unfairness of it all raged. The longer he guarded her sleep, the angrier he grew until he could think of nothing but revenge upon all who had ever dared to harm her. After an hour alone with his increasingly violent thoughts, he knew what he had to do.

"Dobby, I have need of you."

With a crack, the house-elf appeared before him. Wearing a pair of grossly mismatched socks, his huge green eyes were alight with too much enthusiasm for the lateness of the hour. "Professor Snape, sir! What are you having need of Dobby for? Is Rose Potter in danger?"

"She is indeed." At least he could count on the house-elf to protect Rose without asking pointless and annoying questions. Before he could explain, Dobby had volunteered to guard her.

"That is precisely why I called for you. She is sleeping now, but I must leave for a few hours and she should not be alone. I knew she would be safe with you."

"Dobby will watch her, sir! Dobby will sit at the foot of her bed and guard her sleep. And, if anyone enters Professor Snape's home without permission, sir, Dobby will take her to Hogwarts."

The Potions Master didn't doubt that Dobby could do just that. While he hadn't studied house-elf magic in any great detail, he knew they were able to disappear and reappear at will, even in a place as zealously guarded by Anti-Apparition Charms as Hogwarts. Though, if he thought Rose in any real danger, he wouldn't have considered leaving.

"Do not wake her unless it is absolutely necessary. I gave her a Sleeping Potion. She needs her rest."

Dobby won't, sir! Dobby will sit and guard! It is an honor to serve the great Rose Potter and her loyal protector, Professor Snape."

Uncomfortable with such talk, Severus mumbled his thanks. Remembering he wore nothing but his skivvies and a bathrobe, he made a quick detour to his bedroom to change. Then, he Apparated to Knockturn Alley with a loud crack.

* * *

Walking down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night, Severus pointedly ignored the few witches and wizards wandering the street. Most knew him well enough from his Death Eater days to give him a wide berth. The rest would find themselves on the wrong end of his wand if they dared approach.

Reaching his destination, he rapped loudly on the door to Borgin and Burkes. The shop never truly closed, not with old man Burke residing in the apartment upstairs. The proprietors understood their clientele's need for a certain amount of anonymity. Oftentimes, they conducted business when most decent wizards were in their beds.

The door opened a tiny crack. Severus spotted the white of an eyeball as it appeared in the narrow gap.

"Weren't expecting you here tonight, or any time at all for that matter."

The door begrudgingly opened wide enough for him to slip inside. Burke's wand pointed straight at his chest, but Snape ignored it. Had he wished, the wizard would already be disarmed.

Instead, he adopted an air of polite disdain as his eyes swept the interior of the dark shop. "I'm sure you can understand the constraints currently placed upon me."

The short, shriveled wizard shuffled over to a small lantern, lighting it with his wand. "Don't try to shit me, Snape. Everyone knows you're Dumbledore's man. You can tell him again from me that I don't have any of the merchandise. Tom took it all for himself. Do me that favor, and maybe I'll do you the favor of not telling McNair and Avery that an Aztec sacrificial drains the blood of its victim, not sets him on fire."

Before the old wizard could react, Snape had his wand pressed painfully against his fragile, wrinkled neck. "I care little for what everyone knows, Burke. Tell those two fools whatever you wish. When the Dark Lord returns, I'll be sure to tell him who sold Lucius the Subjugation Manacles. Don't believe for a minute that he'll approve of what that sick bastard did to a pureblood witch who happens to be Bellatrix Lestrange's sister."

The wizard's eyes grew huge with fright, but quickly narrowed in suspicion. "You spin a good tale, but I doubt even you can explain your way out of becoming Rose Potter's guardian."

Falling easily back into old habits, his lip curled into a sneer. "Exactly. I am her guardian. I by definition guard her from idiots who would defy my master's wishes. Do you truly think he does not have plans for the girl? Or that he would not have a faithful servant at Hogwarts?"

Burke cowed under the malice in his gaze. Regretfully, the wizard did not attempt to contradict him with any additional information that Snape might have found illuminating. Really, though, he hadn't expected the shopkeeper to be privy to the Dark Lord's inner circle.

It was unsettling, however, to learn that the cantankerous wizard held information that could endanger Narcissa, not to mention paint a target on his own back. Walden McNair had been one of Lucius' closest confidants. He would not appreciate learning that his friend had been killed with an Unforgivable rather than dying from a Dark spell gone wrong. Severus' old pal Avery might be easier to pacify. His father had viciously beaten him throughout his childhood. He might more readily accept the idea that Lucius' death had been a necessity.

For a moment, he considered permanently silencing the loathsome merchant. Then, he stared coldly into the man's eyes and saw nothing but terror. The gullible fool truly believed him to be raising Rose for the Dark Lord's eventual return. Perhaps he could use such credulity to his advantage.

Abruptly, he dropped his gaze, dismissing the tense exchange as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Still, I shall pass along your assurances to the Headmaster. He shall not bother you again. Now, if I might conduct the business I came here to do?"

Visibly shaking, Burke nodded too eagerly. "By all means. I shouldn't have wasted your time. What are you looking for?"

"I'd like to purchase a Dreamcatcher. I understand you had one displayed in the front case several months ago."

The merchant cracked a nasty smile, exposing several blackened teeth. "A foul bit of Dark magic that is, Professor. I had to take it off display and lock it in the vault. Every night it was giving me bad dreams."

"But it can be tuned to just one mind, can it not?"

"As far as I know. Borgin's the one who likes to play with the merchandise, not me. Why?"

Before Severus could come up with a plausible use for the object, the proprietor gave him a knowing look. "Guess He Who Must Not Be Named only has use for Potter's body, then? Well, she is a pretty little thing. I saw her eating ice cream at Fortescue's earlier this summer. I'll admit I had good wank just remembering how she licked the chocolate off her spoon."

"I'll be sure to tell the Dark Lord," he replied in a scathing tone as his stomach churned with disgust.

Realizing what he'd said, the old man fearfully skittered off to retrieve the item, leaving Snape temporarily alone in the shop. What the hell was he doing? The last thing he wanted was to follow Albus' suggestion and return to his role as a spy. He should have never have set foot in Knockturn Alley, his desire to punish Vernon Dursley notwithstanding. When Burke returned, he didn't bother to hide his impatience.

"How much? I haven't got all night."

For the first time, the shopkeeper's innate avarice overtook his fear. "Well now, that's a rare item outside the States, Professor. I couldn't possibly let it go for less than two hundred galleons."

"Seventy, and not a knut more."

"That's highway robbery!" His outrage quickly faded, however, when he saw the look in Snape's eyes. "An even hundred, then. I have to make a profit."

The Potions Master simply continued to glare. It wasn't long before the wizard caved under the pressure.

"Alright, alright, seventy galleons. But, you'd better get Dumbledore off my back. His appearances are bad for business."

"Agreed." Dropping the coins on the counter, he carefully wrapped up the Dreamcatcher in a handkerchief before pocketing it in his robes. Already, he regretted his impulse to buy it in the first place. Turning on his heel, he strode quickly out of the shop, his robes billowing behind him.

* * *

Returning to Spinner's end, he sat in the kitchen, the Dreamcatcher lying on the table as he held a forgotten cup of coffee in his hand. He didn't understand his hesitation. The blood binding to attune the Dark object to the loathsome Muggle was not a difficult spell. He'd done it dozens of times without a second thought when he was Voldemort's to command. Besides, if anyone deserved night terrors, it was Vernon Dursley. His mental anguish would pale in comparison to the abuse Rose had suffered in his care.

Before he could put down the coffee mug to pick up his wand, he felt that horrible prickle at his back that indicated someone or something watched him. With a sinking heart, he turned around. Rose and Dobby stood a few feet behind him. He cursed himself for picking a seat that kept his back to the entrance to the kitchen.

"You're supposed to be asleep."

She shrugged as she walked towards him, her eyes straying to the black and purple Dreamcatcher glittering malevolently on the table. "I dumped most of the tea into the Venus flytrap. I'm surprised you didn't hear it snoring."

Glancing at the snoozing magical plant, he shook his head. Sometimes he forgot just how Slytherin she could be. Before he could reply, the house-elf began to shriek.

"Bad Magic! That is very Bad Magic, Professor Snape! You is not a bad wizard; you should not be having such bad things!"

"What is it?"

Curiosity overcoming her sense, Rose reached for the malignant object. Before she could touch it, though, he snatched her hand away.

"Don't. It's not attuned yet. Right now it will affect anyone whose skin comes in contact with it."

"It is very Bad Magic, Rose Potter! Professor Snape should not be having!"

"Bad magic? You mean it's Dark? You have a Dark object in the house? Why? What are you going to do with it?"

He quailed under her steely glint of disapproval, but he refused to be cowed by a teenager. "What I plan to do with it is none of your concern, Rose. As for what it does, it merely gives a person bad dreams."

The house-elf tugged urgently on her robe. "That is not all it is doing, Rose Potter! The Dreamcatcher can drive a wizard mad with terrible nightmares! It is Bad Magic! Professor Snape should not be having it!"

Outraged, she put her hands on her hips. "You're planning on using it on Uncle Vernon because of what you saw! You lied to me! You promised you'd ignore everything! How can I trust you when you won't keep your word?"

"I thought I'd see you snogging Draco. I did not expect to see that man treating you like a dog! How do you expect me to ignore something like that? How can you possibly think I could accept anyone doing that to you? He deserves to suffer!"

"Maybe, but you don't get to decide that, Professor! It's not your place!"

"My place?" he raged. "Of course it's my place! You're my daughter! I can't just stand aside and let someone hurt you!"

Blanching, she sat heavily in the chair next to him, her eyes fixed on the Dreamcatcher. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I guess . . . I guess I never really thought about it . . . about how what happened to me might make you feel. I try not to think about it . . . what happened, I mean. It's over. I don't like remembering how badly they treated me."

His anger rapidly drained away; however, his desire to make Vernon Dursley suffer did not. "What he did was wrong. He deserves to be punished, Rose."

Looking up, she gave him rueful smile. "Yeah, he does. But not by you. I won't lose my dad because of him. He's not worth it, Professor."

With an audible sigh, he vanished the Dreamcatcher. "Perhaps not."

The house-elf suddenly pushed himself between them. "Dobby knew Professor Snape is a good wizard! But, Dobby is not knowing that Rose Potter's uncle hurt her! Dobby is making sure he will not do so again!"

With a crack, the tiny, yet fiercely protective house-elf disappeared. Rose stared at the spot where Dobby had stood until a huge grin stole over her face.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about Uncle Vernon again, sir."

He thought of all the inventive ways the house-elf might find to punish the brute, and he grinned in return. "No, I don't think we will."

As he led Rose back to bed, he silently thanked the loyal creature. He had no doubts that Vernon Dursley would quickly come to regret what he did to Rose. If only house-elf magic could be as effective against the Dark Lord as a pitiless Muggle.

Occluding his mind, he settled into a deep, dreamless sleep. He needed to be well rested for their upcoming holiday. It appeared that the Quidditch World Cup would be the calm before the storm, and he wanted to enjoy as much of the respite as possible.

**Author's Notes** - I take no blame for the tardiness of this update. This time, I'm laying it all on Sandy. Luckily, we're closer to DC than New York, so other than a few days off from school for the kids and some water damage due more to bad carpentry than actual flooding, we came out okay. My thoughts and prayers are with the people still suffering from the effects of the storm.

Hope you enjoy the update. Thanks for reading, reviewing and putting this story on alert!


	8. The Quidditch World Cup

**Author's Notes** - Yes, it's been a while. On the plus side, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow since this one ended up being long enough to cut in half. I decided not to repeat much of what you've already read about the Quidditch World Cup. It's not Snape's favorite sport, so his perspective wouldn't have been that much fun to write anyway. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. I'm glad to have such loyal readers. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Are you packed, Rose? The Portkey is primed to activate in ten minutes."

"Almost, I promise. I just need to know whether or not to take a jumper. I haven't seen the weather forecast. Unless the Ministry's charmed the weather for the match?" Her eyes brightened at the thought. "Can they do such a thing?"

"Even if they could, they won't. You might as well take a jumper just in case. It will be cool at night."

She ran back upstairs to finish packing, and he idly checked his watch. It was a cheap timepiece purchased in the same Muggle department store where he had purchased much of their clothing. He and Rose would look the part, although he had no doubt that most of the other witches and wizards attending would not. He was very thankful not to work for the Ministry. No doubt the Statute of Secrecy would be pushed to the limit over the next few days.

At precisely three minutes until the Portkey's activation, Rose reappeared, a dark green jumper tied around her waist.

"May we visit the Weasleys when we arrive? They should be there by now."

"After we unpack," he answered somewhat sternly. She'd asked the same question four times in the last two hours, and his patience had worn thin. "However, we will be dining with Black and the Malfoys in his tent this evening after the match."

She rolled her eyes. "I know, Professor. I was there when Sirius invited us, remember? But it's not yet lunch. There's plenty of time to see the Weasleys. Hermione's staying with them."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm surprised her parents allowed it."

Tugging on her silver bracelet, she looked to the floor. "Well, they might be under the impression that Mrs. Weasley will be there."

"I'm going to pretend that I did not hear that, especially when it's blatantly obvious who gave her such an idea. Now, take hold of the Portkey, and we'll discuss the wisdom of leading your friends into temptation at another time."

Glaring, she gripped a finger of the tattered purple glove. Hoping to salvage the day before her sour disposition ruined it, he clasped her fingers and the glove in his hands. When she looked questioningly at him, he deliberately smiled.

"The next World Cup is in the Americas. Perhaps we should endeavor to enjoy ourselves."

Silently mouthing, "Endeavor to enjoy ourselves," she spoke bluntly. "You know you sound like some character from Pride and Prejudice, Professor."

"I can assure you, Rose; I am no Mr. Darcy."

When she squinted in puzzlement rather than frizzing like an angry kneazle, he knew it would be a good day. Although, that didn't mean he couldn't wind her up a bit.

"I see you haven't actually read the novel in question. Perhaps you should take Muggle Studies in place of Divination this year. I'm certain Professor Burbage could be persuaded to add a literature component to the curriculum."

He allowed her a few seconds of sputtering before slyly suggesting, "Or perhaps you would like to ask Miss Granger for her copy when we visit the Weasleys' campsite this afternoon."

"Professor! That was mean! You can't just—"

Her mouth snapped shut as the Portkey activated; a good thing too, or she might have caught flies. Keeping a tight grip on her fingers, he watched as the trampled grass of an overgrown field rushed to meet them. Rose floundered in the unfamiliar situation and would have slammed to the ground, but he managed to keep her upright.

"That's as bad as Apparition!"

"Professor Snape! This way, please! There's a tour group from Normandy scheduled to arrive in seven minutes."

A rather bedraggled Dirk Cresswell ran huffing and puffing towards them. Severus recognized him from reputation more than acquaintanceship. The Head of the Goblin Liaison office had graduated from Hogwarts the year after Snape's arrival, but he had made quite a name for himself with then Potions Professor Horace Slughorn, who often referred to his favored students in class.

Frankly, he'd not considered the phrase "as cunning as a goblin" a compliment at the time, but after a few trips to Gringotts, he had come to understand it as high praise. Slughorn had also mentioned that Cresswell's fingers were as long as a goblin's, which is how he could now identify the older man.

Taking in Cresswell's fuzzy purple slippers, trench coat and fedora, Severus turned to Rose to sternly shake his head. She didn't need to succumb to a fit of girlish giggles in front of the proud wizard. Respectfully, he followed the man until he stopped in the middle of a dirt road. Hoping to be rid of him at the earliest opportunity, the Potions Master opted for an air of courtesy.

"Busy day, Mr. Cresswell. I hope you are well."

Unfortunately, it was the wrong sentiment to express to the harried Ministry official.

"Well? I'd hardly call being forced from important duties to play escort to a bunch of rabid Quidditch fans anything remotely close to well. At least you're dressed correctly. If I've told one person they couldn't wear their robes, I've told a dozen. You'd think people would pay attention to the information printed on their tickets, but that would be asking too much, wouldn't it? I mean, how difficult is it to dress like a Muggle?"

At this, he heard a squeak from Rose. Eyes flickering downward, he scowled severely enough for her to get the message. Coughing, she did her best to wipe the mad grin off her face. Cresswell finally noticed the object of his stare, and the wizard's face softened into an indulgent smile.

"I didn't know you were married, Professor. Your daughter certainly favors you."

At this, Rose burst out laughing. "I do, don't I? Although everyone says I have my mother's eyes."

Even Severus had to admit that she bore a striking resemblance to him, at least on this particular day. Both were dressed in jeans and black boots, and each sported a black t-shirt advertising a different Muggle rock band. Lily had given him the Grateful Dead t-shirt Rose wore as a twelfth birthday present. The band had toured England that year and she had quickly fallen in love with their music. The skull emblazoned on the front sported a white lightning bolt on its cranium, which Rose found ironic in the extreme. His own shirt was just as vintage, although he thought The Who's classic _Pinball Wizard_ artwork much less morbid.

It had rained for much of the summer, which meant Rose's skin appeared almost as pale as his. Her dark hair had been plaited into two long braids that oddly mimicked his straight, limp hair. Thankfully for her, her nose was much more pleasing to the eye. An ill-timed breeze pushed her fringe away from her face, exposing her infamous scar. The squat wizard boggled at her before swinging his gaze to Snape, who couldn't believe the man's immediate misconception.

"I became Miss Potter's permanent guardian nearly nine months ago. I can assure you that any similarities in appearance occur quite by happenstance.

Clearing his throat, Cresswell gazed at him shrewdly. "Of course, Professor." Then, the man had the audacity to give him a wink.

Severus clenched his teeth together so forcefully that his jaw ached. The intolerable wizard clearly suffered from delusions. Rather than wasting his breath by protesting such a preposterous notion, he deliberately changed his tone to one of aloofness.

"I believe you were about to inform us of our campsite."

"Quite." The man rifled through a stack of papers before calling out. "It's the first field you come to, about a quarter mile down this road. The manager's name is Roberts. He'll have your reservation."

Before the wizard could say another word, Snape curtly thanked him and walked away. Rose soon followed, blithely unaware that her attempt at humor had been taken seriously. She chattered on about Quidditch as they approached the campgrounds, and he tried to appear enthusiastic for her sake.

As his eyes swept the jumble of odd tents in the distance, he felt a surge of pity for the Muggle manager. Holding the door open to the small cottage that served as Mr. Roberts' office, he gestured for Rose to enter.

A young girl played with a spinning top next to the counter. As they entered, she looked up and smiled, then quickly went back to her quiet pursuit. She had the same brown curly hair as her father.

"Morning. Not sure I've got room to spare, but I'll try to work you in."

As Rose went over to speak to the young girl, Severus put twenty quid on the counter. "Actually, we have reservations for the night."

The man's entire demeanor changed. His shoulders stooped as much as his expression soured. "Wouldn't have thought you were with that lot. Rejects from the loony-bin if you ask me. Not a one of 'em knows how to dress, and half the tents look like something out of Arabian Nights. I've half a mind to call the authorities."

Before he could finish, a frazzled wizard wearing a purple paisley suit Apparated into the room with a loud crack.

"_Obliviate._"

The curly-haired child screamed as all animation left her father's face. Terrified, she made a run for the door with Rose at her heels, but she wasn't faster than the newcomer's wand.

"_Obliviate_."

The young Muggle stopped abruptly. Her eyes glazed over as her wooden top dropped to the floor to roll underneath the counter. Rose had to throw herself out of the girl's way in order to avoiding falling over her. The Ministry official appeared to be bored by the entire scene.

"You'd think after the fortieth Obliviation, Roberts wouldn't have an opinion left, but he's stubborn for a Muggle."

"You can't do that! You can't just erase their memories like that! It's wrong!"

The teen's impassioned protest pierced the man's blasé attitude. "And, what would you have me do, girlie? Let him call the authorities? I suppose you think the Statute of Secrecy's a joke, do you?"

"No! But that doesn't give you the right to make them forget so many times! It can't be good for them!"

Turning to Snape, the man glared as menacingly as one could wearing a such a ridiculous suit. "As a sanctioned Ministry Obliviator, I suggest you better control your daughter's outbursts, or I might decide she needs memory modification as well."

Rose opened her mouth to retort, but Severus clamped his hand on her shoulder tightly enough that she immediately reconsidered. The Potions Master glowered at the Obliviator until the other wizard broke eye contact.

"Your threat is both illegal and highly unethical. I suggest you allow Mr. Roberts to inform us of the location of our campsite before I decide to contact an Auror."

Mr. Roberts, however, did not move, nor did the blank look on his face disappear. With a muttered expletive, the Obliviator rifled through the man's desk until he found the guest registration.

"Name."

"Severus Snape."

For once, the wizard didn't react to his name. He was old enough to have graduated Hogwarts years before the Slytherin's arrival.

"You've number fifty-seven. I don't have to tell two Muggle-lovers like you that all conspicuous displays of magic are prohibited in the campgrounds. So, no using that wand of yours to pitch the tent or start a fire, Mr. Snape. Mark my words; I have my eyes on you. One spark of noticeable magic and I'll call the Aurors faster than a Chinese Firebolt can melt ice."

A tic under Snape's left eye was the only visible response to the man's outburst. His hand still gripping Rose's shoulder, he silently led her outside the tiny cottage. As soon as they stepped onto the grass, though, she twisted out of his hold.

"That man's a tyrant! He can't just do as he pleases! He's hurting them, Professor! We have to tell someone!"

"Tell whom?" he asked with an angry snort. "The Ministry? Even Amelia Bones would see nothing wrong with an Obliviator repeatedly modifying the memory of a Muggle in the course of his duties. Memory Charms are routinely used on Muggles without formal oversight."

Thankfully, she replied in a much softer tone of voice, though her emotions were no less intense. "Just because they're Muggles doesn't make it right! Memory Charms can leave the victim with lasting psychological damage. It should be an Unforgivable."

With a lurch, he realized that she wasn't simply distraught about the Muggles' plight. "I share your upset, Rose, but let me assure you that there are some things better forgotten."

"That's not what the books say."

"Books? What books are you—You had Miss Granger access the Restricted Section on your behalf, didn't you? Why not simply ask me?"

"I was afraid you'd say no."

Knowing Hermione Granger's overconfidence in casting spells above her year, his heart constricted in his chest. "You must have discovered that overcoming a Memory Charm can cause permanent brain damage. Promise me you won't pursue this, Rose."

"It should be an Unforgivable," she stubbornly maintained.

"Rose."

"Fine," she huffed. "I promise not to try to undo the Memory Charm."

"Or have Miss Granger make the attempt."

"Or let Hermione try," she sullenly agreed.

They walked to their campsite in silence after that. He couldn't blame Rose for her reaction to the Ministry's reckless use of Obliviation. He did sympathize with her frustration over her own memory loss even as he gave thanks for it. The young rarely understood that ignorance could truly be bliss.

By the time he had pitched the tent, she had regained much of her enthusiasm. When he sent her off for water, she returned jabbering about how many of her friends and schoolmates she had spoken to along the way.

"And, I saw Ginny on the way back. She promised to let everyone know where we are."

"I am overjoyed," he replied dryly as he entered the nondescript tent which on the inside rivaled his own home in size.

As Rose took in the expanse of their temporary abode, her face lit up with an exuberant smile. "Sometimes, I love magic."

"It has its uses," he agreed with a wry grin.

* * *

Keeping a tight hold on Rose's hand, Severus cursed his decision to leave the Quidditch stadium with the rest of the spirited horde. They should have stayed in their seats until more of the crowd had cleared. It was impossible to maneuver in the crushing throng.

Inevitably, they became separated. He faintly heard her call out that she would meet him at the tent before the sheer mass of people forced him towards the exit. Twenty minutes later, he had reached his goal, but she had not. Pacing, he nervously checked his watch. If she didn't appear within fifteen minutes, he would trace her through the charm he'd placed on her silver bracelet.

"Merlin, Snape! I thought you detested Quidditch. What are you doing here?"

Looking up at the familiar voice, Severus wished he'd cast a Disillusionment Charm. He had no desire to speak to any of the old gang, although it now appeared inevitable. Pasting on a congenial expression, he clasped the man's hand.

"I may find Quidditch tedious, but Rose Potter is an avid fan. I'm sure you've heard by now that I've claimed her as my ward."

The black-robed wizard immediately crossed his arms. Taking a half step back, he frowned. "I'd heard. I'd also heard you've taken up with Narcissa Malfoy. Personally, I thought both unlikely, but McNair assured me it was true."

"Been spending much time with Walden lately?"

The heavyset man glanced from left to right before stepping closer. Severus tensed as he calculated the odds of stunning his former schoolmate without drawing attention to himself.

"Not by choice. Father's orders, I'm afraid."

Wearily, he rubbed his eyes. He really didn't have time for this. "Corbin, you're not sixteen anymore. When are you going to stop letting your old man dictate your life?"

"Hell, Snape, you know what he's like."

"Regrettably. Might I remind you, however, that he's seventy-seven. Surely you can take him in a fight by now, Avery."

Corbin Avery laughed nervously. "Maybe, if the old codger would consent to a fair fight." Again, his eyes nervously scanned the crowd. He then drew close enough to whisper in his fellow Death Eater's ear.

"Look, I don't know if you're playing some sort of long game or have finally lost what little sanity you possessed. But, you've always been decent to me, so I'm going to give you some advice. You need to leave."

He casually brushed away the wizard's concern even as his mind whirred with the possibilities. "Leave? Why should I leave? I'm dining with Narcissa in Black's tent tonight."

Avery appeared to be genuinely stunned. "She's here? Hell, I wouldn't put it past McNair to take advantage of the chaos to extract his revenge. He's convinced she had something to do with Lucius' death."

Snape focused on breathing evenly as he calmly asked, "Chaos?"

His old school chum sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing special. A little fun planned for the Muggles later tonight. Not worth losing your job over, whatever your job really is."

He flashed the edgy wizard a feral grin. "Wise advice. I take it the festivities won't begin for another few hours?"

This time, his former comrade's laughter was much more relaxed. "Since when has our crowd done anything on an empty stomach? I'd say you have at least three hours to clear out, if not four."

"Good, it will take me that long to convince Black not to stay and fight."

A pained expression passed over the other man's face. Snape readily guessed his thoughts.

"He's Reg's brother, Corbin. They're more alike than you might think."

Avery shook his head. "You truly are the master of doublespeak, Severus. It's a shame Father didn't have you for a son."

"I'd have poisoned his wine long before now. I admire your restraint."

"Restraint? The devious bastard has a suspicious death clause in his will. If he doesn't die peacefully in his sleep, I'll have a hell of a time claiming my inheritance."

"For your sake I hope it happens soon."

"From your lips to the Fates' ears." Heartily, he clapped Snape on the shoulder. "I'd better go. Wouldn't want dear old Dad to wonder where I am." Before he left, however, he leaned close to impart one last warning. "Watch your back. Half the old crowd believes you a traitor while the other half fears you're positioning yourself to become the next Dark Lord. Nice t-shirt, by the way."

Before Severus could react, Avery pushed his way into the crowd. Anxiously, he checked his watch. The entire exchange had barely lasted five minutes, and Rose was still missing. Scanning the mass of people passing by, he assessed the odds that the conversation had been a deliberate distraction. Swiftly, he dismissed such a notion. After a superficial foray into Corbin's mind, he'd encountered nothing but sincerity.

Shit. His list of worries had grown tenfold. At least he could surmise that the Dark Lord had not contacted his inner circle. Voldemort would not condone an Anti-Muggle incident stirring up the Ministry just as he planned a return. In fact, the night's revel could be of great benefit to the Order by putting its surviving members on alert.

As thoughts and suppositions zinged in his head, he finally spotted Rose. She walked jauntily with a full complement of Weasleys towards the tent. Clenching his jaw, he had to remind himself that she had no idea of the danger to come. By the time they reached him, he had tamped down his anxiety to the point that he praised her for finding her friends in such a large crowd.

While the twins bragged of their winning bet with Ludo Bagman, Snape discreetly pulled Arthur Weasley to the side. It was a testament to his apprehension that he didn't bother to explain or soften his words with platitudes.

"It is essential that you find an excuse to take Miss Granger and the rest of your children home this evening."

Taken aback, Arthur raised his voice. "What? Why?"

Alerted by the tension in their father's questions, both Bill and Charlie sidled up to the two. Snape stared balefully at them both, but when neither moved, he continued speaking to Arthur without acknowledging their presence.

"I have reason to believe there might be some trouble later this evening, trouble a witch of Miss Granger's heritage should take pains to avoid."

Arthur unconsciously reached for his wand. "There hasn't been trouble like that in years, Severus."

"And yet, we discussed just such a possibility at the beginning of the summer."

The usually amiable wizard looked grim. Turning to his eldest sons, he asked, "How are you at Side-Along Apparition?"

Bill thoughtfully twirled the fang attached to his earring. "I can safely take two, so that's Ginny and Hermione accounted for."

Charlie, however, was not so composed. "You can't be serious! We can't simply skulk away while others might be in danger!"

"Keep your voice down!" Severus hissed, throwing a look of unalloyed contempt at the young man. "They'll be no skulking tonight, Mr. Weasley. Your father will find a legitimate excuse to leave within the hour, and you will go. If not for Miss Granger, I would not have warned you at all. However, getting her to safety must be the overriding concern. I shall deal with the rest."

Arthur agreed. "Severus is right, Charlie. We have an obligation to keep Hermione safe." Turning to the Potions Master, he asked, "I take it the manner in which you discovered this information precludes us from informing the Aurors ahead of time?"

"Correct. Which is why I think it best that Miss Granger leave as soon as possible."

"What about Rose?"

"I'll take care of Rose. Now, I suggest you return to your tent, enjoy a quiet dinner and find a valid excuse to leave."

To Arthur Weasley's credit, he didn't waste any more time. Efficiently and with resounding cheer, he loudly made his goodbyes to Severus and Rose. Hermione gave her friend a hug, promising to visit before leaving in the morning. Neither girl had any inkling that their next meeting would not occur for several weeks.

As soon as the Weasleys were out of sight, Rose turned to Snape. "I'm famished, Professor. Do you think we could visit Sirius now?"

In spite of the dire situation, Severus couldn't help his amusement. "Are you certain you didn't perform a Vanishing Spell on your stomach? I clearly remember you eating during the match."

"That didn't count. I was too nervous to enjoy it."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, for a couple of minutes, I thought Ireland might lose. I mean, can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to lose to Bulgaria?"

"I imagine no more embarrassing than England losing to Transylvania three hundred ninety to ten."

"So you do follow Quidditch!"

"Only as a defensive measure, I assure you. Now, put on your jumper; it's getting cold."

She gave him a crisp, military salute. "Yes, Mum!"

He sent a weak Stinging Hex flying in her direction. Easily dodging it, Rose giggled like . . . well, she giggled like a schoolgirl. With a wistful pang of regret, Severus hoped it wouldn't be the last time he heard such innocent delight coming from her mouth.


	9. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**Author's notes** - Just a quick note of explanation about why Rose and Severus didn't watch the Quidditch World Cup in the Top Box. Severus bought the tickets for Rose's birthday from a tour company as part of a holiday package deal. While the seats were on the top row, they were nowhere near the Top Box. Bagman still gave Top Box tickets to Arthur for the favor Mr. Weasley did for him, and Narcissa was given Top Box tickets due to the amount of her donation to St. Mungo's. So, the only thing different about the Top Box in my story than in the book was Rose's absence. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Draco!"

As Sirius invited Rose and Severus into his tent, the young witch ran excitedly to her Slytherin friend's side. Self-consciously, he took her hand in his as she beamed at him.

"I wish you could have sat with us. I had an obnoxious American sitting next to me shouting curses at the officials. Seriously, an Auror had to warn him that using magic to influence the game was illegal. Oh! Did you buy a set of omnioculars? I put them on slow motion every time Krum went into a dive."

"Mother insisted I bring my own. A good thing, too. They're far superior to the ones you can buy off a cart. They automatically record the highlights of the game. Here, want to see Krum catch the Snitch again?"

As Rose avidly peered through his admittedly more powerful omnioculars, Draco quietly continued, "At least you didn't have to sit in the Top Box. Most of the Ministry officials acted like they might catch something from Mum. They were happy enough to take Father's gold for St. Mungo's a week ago. If not for Sirius, Mother might have left before the match. To add insult to injury, I had to sit behind the Weasel for the whole game. Ruddy git kept turning around to stare at me. And, he wouldn't stop talking about Victor Krum. You'd think he was the only Quidditch player in Bulgaria."

She didn't take her eyes off the omnioculars. "He is a brilliant Seeker."

"He's good, but you could beat him, Potter."

Flushing, she ducked her head at his praise. Then, she reached into the pocket of her jeans to pull out a miniature Firebolt. As it hovered over her hand, she mumbled, "Thought you might like it."

The tiny broom zoomed around the Slytherin's head before landing on his creased navy trousers. Then, the metal foil peeled away to reveal the dark chocolate inside. "Fantastic! I didn't see anything like this. Where'd you find it?"

She shrugged. "Outside the stadium. Honeydukes had a booth near the far entrance."

"Thanks. Want some?"

Not giving her a chance to refuse, he broke the chocolate broom in two, handing her the largest piece. Severus watched as Rose nibbled on the chocolate while she talked animatedly to Draco. His thoughts, however, were far away from the two teens.

Standing next to Narcissa, he answered questions with distracted grunts and one word sentences. When Sirius asked him what was wrong, he chalked up his lack of enthusiasm to fatigue. The Marauder handed him a pint and told him to relax, which counter intuitively sounded like the best advice he'd heard all day. He took a seat in a leather wingback chair on the opposite side of the room and tried to empty his mind.

After a few minutes, he felt a warm hand on top of his. "Severus, what's wrong? I haven't seen that nervous tic on your face since the Dark Lord asked you to brew Veritaserum."

Of course she would notice. With a sigh, he pulled her onto his lap to whisper softly into her ear.

"I ran into Avery after the game. He told me not to stay the night."

To Sirius, her coy smile indicated nothing more interesting than some secretive flirting. Only Severus could feel the tension in her body. Brushing her lips against his neck, she whispered her reply.

"How long?"

"The sooner the better."

"Then I suggest a fever. You've already admitted to fatigue."

Her wand hidden from view, she cast a series of charms that would mimic a significant illness. Slytherins had long been familiar with such spells, although the practice had fallen out of favor since Snape had taken over as Head of House. Already, he could feel his body temperature begin to rise. Gazing lovingly at Narcissa through glassy eyes, he kissed her palm.

Standing, she brushed his hair with her fingers. In a voice which carried, she said, "I should see if Sirius needs any help with dinner. There's nothing wrong with taking a nap. You look tired."

Irritably, he argued that he felt fine, although he made no move to leave the comfortable chair. As the charms continued their work, his heart raced and his muscles ached. But it was a small price to pay to get the people he cared about to safety. Closing his eyes, he waited.

* * *

"Professor? Cissy asked me to wake you for dinner. Professor? Are you alright?"

Groaning, Snape opened his eyes. Rose's hand on his arm hurt his extremely sore muscles as they became sensitive to the slightest touch. Sitting in the chair, his heart thudded so heavily in his chest that he doubted the wisdom of standing. And, the inside of the tent seemed stifling hot. Merlin, but he was getting too old for such nonsense.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Tell her I'll be there shortly."

Only after she had beaten a hasty retreat did he try to stand. He'd never run a marathon, but he imagined his heartbeat would mimic its current pace. Washing up in the loo, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His lips appeared unnaturally red against his overly pale skin save for two bright patches of color on his cheeks.

Drying his hands, he did his best to ignore his discomfort. Under normal circumstances, he would take great pains to hide an illness, but he was all too aware of the ticking of the clock. He'd have to settle for vigorous denial while allowing his body to tell its own tale.

The smell of the corned beef Sirius served in honor of Ireland's win immediately turned his stomach. Taking small portions, he listlessly pushed his food around his plate, content to be ignored. Halfway through dinner, his fever reached the point where his body started to shiver. As nonchalantly as he could, he put down his fork. There was no point in pretending to eat if his hand was going to shake.

Sirius made the mistake of asking him if he wanted more cabbage at which point he sneered, "What do you think, Black?" Unfortunately, he ended the question with a coughing fit that left him struggling to regain his breath. Narcissa immediately came to his side, her much too cold hand pressed uncomfortably against his cheek.

"You're burning with fever. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm fine," he rasped, wishing he had at least drunk some water. "It's a cold, nothing more. Do us all a favor and leave me alone."

His response to Narcissa was so uncharacteristically harsh that her cousin grabbed his wand to perform several diagnostic spells.

"A cold my bloody eye! If your fever were any higher, I'd be hauling you to St. Mungo's."

"Leave it, you insufferable mutt! I'm not going to ruin anyone's holiday over an insignificant virus! I am perfectly fine!"

Springing angrily to his feet, he gripped the chair as his legs wobbled beneath him. Narcissa had certainly done a thorough job. He'd have to thank her once he felt well enough to tolerate anyone's company.

"Please, Professor. Let's go home."

Finally! If he could have, he would have danced for joy. With great reluctance he admitted, "I do feel somewhat under the weather. Perhaps Sirius would allow you to stay here tonight while I return home."

Narcissa immediately contradicted him. "No, Severus. What if your condition worsens? I'll not have you spend the night alone in that drafty old house. For once, you're going to do as you're told. We'll all go."

He sat heavily on the chair with a disgruntled air of defeat. "It's a moot point. I don't think I can Apparate at the moment anyway."

"All the more reason to get you home, you aggravating idiot. I take it you have Fever Reducing Potions in your personal stores?"

He glared at Black, but didn't bother with a retort. He was simply too tired. Besides, the other man knew perfectly well that he kept a large supply of medicinal potions at home.

"Take Rose first. She can show you."

Trading a worried look with Narcissa, Black quickly agreed. "I'll take Rose and Cissy first. Draco can stay to make sure you don't wander off in a delirium."

Resting his head on the table, Snape closed his eyes. He could hear snatches of an argument between Rose and Sirius, but in the end, she left as he had requested.

"You must really hate camping, Professor."

Stifling a groan, he pushed himself upright. Draco sat opposite him, coolly eating a cherry tart.

"Goyle tried the same trick before his Transfiguration exam last year. Of course, he didn't do it half as well as you. Madame Pomfrey had him cleaning bedpans in the Hospital Wing for a week."

He dropped his head back onto the table. Occasionally, he could see Lucius' arrogance in the boy all too well. As a few minutes stretched to ten and then twenty, however, the young man began to fidget. Snape could hear the rustling of the chair cushion. Then, he disappeared, only to reappear at his side with a glass of water.

"Professor? You don't look so good. If you're not faking, I apologize. Either way, you should probably drink the water."

Draco was all too easy to ignore. After a few more shouts of "Professor", the teen went quiet. Eventually, someone grasped him around the chest. He felt the disorientation of Apparition, and then the soft comfort of cool cotton sheets which were not his own. Someone (Narcissa?) pulled off his jeans and fed him a Fever Reducing Potion.

As potion battled charm, he broke out in a heavy sweat. After twenty minutes of intense chills, his temperature finally neared normal. Opening his eyes, he gazed wearily at the beautiful blonde sitting at his bedside in Grimmauld Place.

"I don't think I've ever felt worse. Thank you, Narcissa."

She tenderly pressed a dry flannel to his forehead. "What we do for foolish Gryffindor pride. Rose is safe. You can rest now."

"Once I make sure the Muggle family managing the campsite is safe."

"Surely the Aurors—"

"Are not expecting a Death Eater revel in the middle of the Quidditch World Cup. Avery assured me that it was all in good fun, but I don't trust McNair not to kill someone. It's been almost thirteen years, Narcissa."

Wordlessly, she handed him his jeans. Her eyes were full of fear, but not one word of reproach came from her mouth. After he had dressed, she kissed him passionately, clinging to him for a long moment before smiling through a quiet sniffle.

"Don't do anything too heroic."

His black eyes glittered with amusement. "Of course not. That's what Gryffindors are for." With that, he Apparated away with a loud pop.

* * *

Appearing on the dark and deserted dirt road leading to his campsite, Severus could hear the rowdy noises of a multitude of celebrations as the sound carried on the stiff breeze. His wand at the ready, he walked towards the glow of a thousand campfires hoping he wasn't too late. Before he had gone more than a hundred yards, however, he heard the shout of his name.

"Snape! Damn it, Snape! Wait!"

Black. He should have known. With ill-disguised impatience, he waited as the mutt jogged to catch up.

"Don't you know it's impolite to Apparate through the wards? Besides, it's truly unfair to keep all the fun to yourself."

Stupid, pig-headed arse—he could see that Black considered this an exciting romp, precisely the reason he hadn't wanted the Gryffindor's assistance in the first place. Walking briskly towards the well-lit cottage, he tried to curb his enthusiasm.

"Life isn't fair and this isn't fun, Black. Or have you forgotten what Death Eaters tend to do to Muggles?"

"No," he answered soberly. "Although I imagine it pales in comparison to what they do to traitors. What were you thinking, Snape? It would be suicide to confront your old pals single-handedly."

"Precisely why I have no intention of confronting them. I am merely going to suggest to Mr. Roberts that he and his family leave for the night if he hasn't left already."

"And if he doesn't listen?"

"He will. I can be very persuasive."

"I bet you can at that," Black muttered as they approached the tiny house.

* * *

Rapping loudly on the wooden door, Severus ignored the prickling feeling of unease that slid down his back. Fear could be useful if it honed one's senses, deadly if it led to panic. With Black standing as a lookout in the shadows, there was absolutely no need to panic.

The manager of the campground prudently kept the chain on the door as he opened it a crack. "Yeah? What do you want?"

"Mr. Roberts, might I come in? There are some safety concerns which need to be addressed."

Far too trusting, the Muggle opened the door to let him inside. The Potions Master's eyes swept the small reception area, but they were alone. Perhaps the man had a shred of sense after all.

"Now see here, No one's ever complained about the quality of the campsite. The drinking water's tested every six months; waste disposal meets all Health and Safety regulations; and the facilities are kept spotlessly clean. Any problems you've encountered are because of that lot out there getting up to God knows what."

"Actually, Mr. Roberts, I was referring to the safety of your family. I'm sure you've noticed the rather boisterous celebrations at the campsite tonight."

The man's eyes went out of focus for a few seconds, but then, he seemed to pull himself together.

"I've noticed. Would've had to be deaf and blind not to. Only, every time I think about doing something about it, I . . . ."

Again, his eyes lost their focus, and Severus cursed the Obliviators for doing such a good job. It would make his all the more difficult.

"Your family is at home, then?"

The man startled and then stared warily at his guest. "Yeah, they're at home, not that it's any of your concern. In fact, I think you should leave now."

Severus stared at the walls as he debated the merits of kidnapping the entire family for their own good. "It's you and your family who should leave, Mr. Roberts, at least for the night. You said so yourself, the campers are an odd lot. Wouldn't it be wise to at least send your wife and daughter away until they leave?"

He could see the Muggle struggle to reach a decision as the Memory Charm clashed against the natural protective instincts of a husband and father. Finally, though, the urge to safeguard his family won out.

"Yeah," he replied, a little distantly at first, but his voice became stronger as he continued. "Yeah, you're right. That lot making all the ruckus could be dangerous, don't know why I hadn't considered that before."

Then, he called for his wife, who appeared after a minute with two sleepy children in tow. Severus recognized the oldest child as the girl with the spinning top.

"Something the matter, Phil?"

He scratched his head. "I'm honestly not sure, Moira, but I'd feel better if you and the children stayed at your Mum's tonight."

"But it's quarter of eleven! She'll be in bed."

"Then, ring her," Snape commanded with a dangerous edge to his voice. "It's later than I thought. You should all leave now."

Surprisingly, the woman obeyed. Within fifteen minutes, she and her two children were driving down the narrow dirt road towards the motorway. Only when her tail lamps had disappeared in the distance did Snape relax. Though he knew it would be useless, he attempted to convince the manager to leave once more.

"You should follow them. Everyone's paid in advance. There's no reason for you to stay."

As he had anticipated, the man's eyes glazed over. "Leave? Why should I leave? Every site's booked. Payne and I'll earn a bonus this month for sure."

"Payne?"

"Sure, he manages the other field. Bit of a loner, but a decent sort. He let me have the cottage on account of my family."

"I see." And, he did. No doubt the other manager had been Obliviated often enough to make it impossible to convince him to leave as well. "A good evening to you, Mr. Roberts."

Before he could make his escape, the Muggle stopped him at the door. "I feel like I should be grateful, though I don't know why. So, thank you, Mr. . . .?"

"Griffin. Godric Griffin. And, I wish I could have done more. Good night, Mr. Roberts."

"A good night to you, Mr. Griffin. Be careful. Bunch of lunatics out there, if you ask me."

"Oftentimes, I agree," he ruefully replied as he walked into the darkness.

* * *

Sitting up in bed, Severus tried to occupy himself by reading the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_, but even that ghastly magazine couldn't hold his interest. Narcissa lay beside him, the even rise and fall of her chest indicating that she was finally asleep. When he had returned to her side an hour after leaving, she had been beside herself with guilt for divulging his whereabouts to her cousin. It had taken almost an hour of gentle reassurances to convince her he was not irate and another twenty minutes to persuade her to sleep by his side rather than in the chair. Pretense only went so far.

As the clock in the hallway struck three, he regretted allowing Black to convince him to return to Grimmauld Place rather than stay at the campsite. He hated being in the dark. Surely something had happened by now. Sirius had promised to Apparate directly to the bedroom as soon as he had packed up both tents. If something had happened to the mutt, he was going to kill him.

Another twenty-five minutes crawled by before Black appeared at the foot of the bed with a loud pop. The smell of smoke clung to his clothes, and his steely gray eyes were narrowed in anger.

"Fucking Death Eaters."

At this, Narcissa woke with a start, clearly terrified. Sirius quickly apologized, although he still had the look of an attack dog straining at his chain.

"Sorry, Cissy. Long night. And, tomorrow's going to be an even longer day, I'm afraid."

"What happened?" Snape demanded.

"No one was killed, though I expect more than a few pissed their pants. It's amazing the panic a few men in masks can generate in a crowd. Roberts is alright, although the Obliviators made him forget the past two weeks. I feel sorry for his poor wife, but better him than her. A couple of people were trampled in the chaos, but their injuries were relatively minor. It's the Dark Mark that's causing all the trouble."

"Dark Mark? I thought you said no one was killed?"

"I did. But someone went and conjured it anyway. Funnily enough, it made the Death Eaters scatter like ashwinders in a snowstorm. Actually, I thought you had snuck back and conjured it until the Aurors found the wand used to cast it."

"The wand, but not the wizard?"

Why couldn't Black get to the point? By his loaded pause, he was obviously trying to make one. The wiry man crossed his arms, plainly uncomfortable with the news he was about to impart.

"Thankfully, the wizard in question has an airtight alibi." Then, dropping his voice, he confessed, "Severus, it was Draco's. I saw it myself."

"No."

Narcissa shuddered under the weight of his revelation. Taking her in his arms, Severus glared at Black. The mutt needed to learn the concept of tact.

Contrite, Sirius sat tiredly on the edge of the bed as he comfortingly patted Narcissa's back.

"It's alright, Cissy. As I said, he has an airtight alibi. Even Crouch had to admit that. They're sending Shacklebolt here in the morning to ask a few questions. We'll cooperate fully and that will be the end of it. Draco should have his wand back by the start of term."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Cissy. Kingsley is going to ask all of us to try to remember the last time Draco used his wand and where it might have been lost. That's all."

Belatedly, Severus realized what the Auror's visit would entail. "He expects me to be ill, doesn't he?"

For the first time, Sirius grinned. "Oh, yes. Quite ill, in fact."

Standing, he kissed Narcissa on the cheek, an intolerable smirk lingering on his face. "I'd better go. Wouldn't want to catch your flu, Snape. Seems to be a particularly nasty strain. Shame your Slytherin cunning couldn't have come up with something more pleasant."

As he left, Severus hurled the magazine at the insufferable mutt, but it went wide and harmlessly hit the wall instead. Staring at the ceiling, he sulked; he did not relish the thought of feeling so miserable for an entire day, even if it was for a good cause.

All thoughts flew out of his head as Narcissa planted kisses down his chest. Looking down, he marveled at her transformation. No longer fear-laden, her sapphire eyes smoldered with desire. As she met his gaze, a sly grin stole over her face.

"There is one advantage to being ill."

Raising an eyebrow, he played along. "And, what, precisely, is that?"

"You have me as your nurse."

Really, he should have thought of that sooner. He would have taken ill ages ago.


	10. When First We Practice to Deceive

Author's Notes - Hi! My parent's came to my home for Thanksgiving and we had a wonderful, relaxing visit. If you celebrated the holiday, I hope it was a good one for you, too. So, yes, this chapter is short and late, but don't worry, they'll be plenty of action in the next one. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Standing near the Hogwarts Express on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Severus Snape fingered his wand. He didn't like the crowds milling about. There were too many potential victims should Voldemort's mysterious servant decide to attack the train.

After a discreet conversation with Corbin Avery, he had learned that none of the Death Eaters who had participated in the "fun" of the Quidditch World Cup had cast the Dark Mark. The Mark had in fact scared them witless, with good reason. While the Dark Lord still held the loyalty of the true believers, many, like Avery the younger, were secretly glad he was gone. The pointed reminder that he might not be had shocked the wizards behind the ridiculous masks as much as it had terrified the masses.

"Professor? Why don't you find a compartment on the train? You look a little tired."

Looking down at Rose, he smiled, although he was far too preoccupied to put much effort into it.

"In a moment. Why don't you find a compartment and save me a seat? I'd rather not be forced to sit with a bunch of dunderhead first years."

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't end well."

Even as she joked, she anxiously tugged at her bracelet. Grimacing, he suppressed his guilt for having deceived her. Rose thought his bout with Phoenix Flu quite real, and had hovered anxiously by his side the last two weeks of the summer holidays. If only she were better at hiding her emotions the deceit would not have been necessary.

With a long, backwards glance, she reluctantly rejoined the Grangers and the Weasleys. She spoke earnestly to Molly, who shot him a worried look. He pretended not to notice. The kindhearted Weasley matriarch was the last person he wished to see. She, too, thought him still recovering from a serious illness, and he had no desire to listen to her well-intentioned lecture.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, he thought grimly to himself. Even Arthur believed his illness to be a horrible coincidence. Normally, he'd chalk it up to Gryffindor gullibility, but no one in their right mind would fake a disease as severe as Phoenix Flu. He blamed it on the mutt's reckless influence and Narcissa's over eagerness to prove herself.

Speak of the devil, his two cohorts approached—Narcissa with a smile and Sirius with his tongue lolling from his open mouth. He had to admit the Marauder made a handsome Irish wolfhound. Draco held him imperiously on a tight leash, which brought a smirk to Severus' face. The young Slytherin appeared positively gleeful.

Draco deserved some fun. The last two weeks had been difficult for the Malfoy heir. The Aurors had quickly cleared him of complicity in the casting of the Dark Mark, but Rita Skeeter had printed a lurid piece in _The Daily Prophet_ suggesting he followed closely in his father's footsteps. Snape feared the teen would be shunned by the more moderate members of his House. He could only hope the boy's friendship with Rose would not exacerbate the situation.

Narcissa stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek as she laced her fingers with his. Although they'd discussed the need for discretion well into the early morning, he didn't have the strength to disentangle himself. As much as he feared for Rose's safety, he worried about the older witch's wellbeing. He'd long argued that she should take a flat in London rather than return to Malfoy Manor once term began, but as of yet, she had not followed his advice.

"Narcissa, I—"

The train's whistle blew in warning, and the goodbye speech Snape had planned flew out of his head. Impulsively, he embraced her, and she clung to him for a long minute before letting him go with a sniff.

"You'd best go, both of you."

Giving her son a quick hug, she fled the platform before Severus could say anything else. The three wizards shared a troubled look (a singularly pitiful expression on a wolfhound) and then hurried onto the train.

Crabbe and Goyle accosted Draco as soon as he stepped inside.

"We saved you a seat," Vincent Crabbe proudly announced. "Knew you wouldn't appreciate sharing a compartment with Pansy."

Severus could see Draco stiffen, but the Slytherin pasted on a smile and thanked his friends. He left Snape without a backwards glance, authoritatively yanking the leash when the mutt would have lingered. Wary of the oafs' treatment of both boy and dog, Severus watched as they walked down the train, but Crabbe and Goyle seemed friendly enough.

Before he could begin his search for Rose's compartment, Fred and George Weasley spotted him, waving wildly for him to follow.

"Professor Snape! Rose is this way!"

The students still milling about all turned at Fred's shout, but one rather pointed look of irritation from Snape had them scurrying to find their own seats. By the time he caught up to the twins, sweat dampened his collar. He'd have to owl Narcissa to praise her detailed charms after that night's Welcoming Feast.

When the boys saw him, their cheery smiles faltered. Again, he ignored his twinge of guilt.

"The compartment's in the third car, Professor."

"But, we would gladly intimidate the group of firsties in this car into giving up their seats."

"Yeah," Fred added earnestly, "Mum said to make sure you didn't overdo, and if you don't mind me saying so, sir, you look like you're about to keel over."

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I have no intention of keeling over. Lead the way."

Fred exchanged a long look with his brother, who simply shrugged. The two Gryffindors walked slowly in front of him, allowing their supposedly ailing Potions Master ample time to catch his breath as they made their way to the front of the train. Instead, Snape studied the groups which occupied the various compartments.

Depressingly, Slytherins sat exclusively with Slytherins. In fact, he saw more than one compartment overflowing because those students would rather be cramped than share a compartment with those of Salazar's House. Upon closer scrutiny, most of the young witches and wizards had chosen to sit with their House mates. Here and there, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors mixed, but even then, it was a rarity.

Briefly, he closed his eyes, overcome by regret. He remembered his first journey on the Hogwarts Express all too clearly. He'd been so keen to be sorted into Slytherin that he hadn't even considered the possibility that Lily wouldn't be sorted there, too. Black's arrogant speech should have been his first clue, but he'd refused to listen, refused to acknowledge any reality but his own. If he could change the past, he would beg the Sorting Hat to place him anywhere but his current House.

"It's just a little bit farther, Professor."

His eyes flew open at the sound of Rose's voice. How had he missed her approach? He must have been woolgathering for far longer than he thought. The Weasley twins were nowhere to be seen, but Hermione Granger and Ginerva Weasley hovered anxiously at the door to an open compartment.

"I am fine, Rose. There are simply too many memories on this train."

"Any good ones?" Biting her lip, she led him to his seat. He allowed her to fuss over him for a moment before answering.

"I was remembering the first time I rode the Hogwarts Express. I'd never seen your mother so excited."

"Oh. Did you ever sit with her on the train again?"

The two other girls politely pretended to be engaged in their own conversation, but Severus didn't care if they overheard.

"No, after we were Sorted, everything became more difficult. We used to meet by prearranged accident at the tea trolley. None of our friends would have understood how a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could enjoy each other's company." Pointedly, he looked at the two girls sitting across from them. "I am thankful you have better friends."

Hermione unexpectedly spoke up. "Do you think it would be better if students weren't Sorted, Professor?"

The question took him aback. He'd fantasized of changing Houses, dreamed of Lily being Sorted into Slytherin, but he'd never once thought of what might happen if Hogwarts simply didn't Sort its students.

"I am uncertain as to whether would be better, but it would be different, Miss Granger. One thing I have learned from my years teaching at Hogwarts, however, is that change comes very slowly to the wizarding world. You might as well ask the goblins to give away their gold as advocate the abolishment of the Houses. Fair or not, House affiliation follows you well past your school years. Many Slytherins have been granted apprenticeships based on shared House affiliation rather than their own merit."

"But that's not fair."

He stifled a snort at the girl's indignation. Hermione had yet to learn the harsh lesson that many things in life would never be fair. The Ministry of Magic was a bureaucracy, not a meritocracy. And the rest of the wizarding world was little better.

The bookish Gryffindor opened her mouth to deliver what Severus could only assume to be a very sanctimonious speech when Ginny Weasley quickly interjected.

"Fair or not, Hermione, I for one am glad we get Sorted. Can you imagine having to share a dorm with Millicent Bulstrode or Luna Lovegood? You'd be sleeping in the library."

"Luna's not so bad, Ginny." At Hermione's scoff, Rose added, "Really, she's not. She's just a little different."

"How do you know her, Rose? Isn't she in Ginny's year?"

Not wishing to hear any more idle gossip about the students he taught, Severus rested his head against the window and promptly fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of the train. Only the arrival of the tea cart some hours later woke him. Not hungry, he didn't bother to move from his semi-comfortable position, and the teens thought him still asleep.

"How is he, really?" he heard Hermione say in a quiet voice.

He had a feeling the girls weren't discussing Black's rather public confrontation with Barty Crouch two days ago in the middle of Diagon Alley. No, he had to be the topic of idle gossip, and by the way Rose had pressed herself against him, he guessed that at least one more student had joined the group. Resigned, he continued to feign sleep.

"Stubborn as always. He keeps pretending he's fine, but you saw him. He can barely walk the length of the train."

"Yeah, but we're talking about Snape, Rose. He'd rather die than admit to being weak."

"That's not helping, Ronald."

"What?" the new addition to the compartment asked indignantly. "You know it's true. Last year he was crippled after that Potions accident, but he still insisted on teaching."

"Honestly, Ron. How thick can you be? It wasn't a Potions accident. He was hurt saving Rose's life."

"He what? Why didn't anyone tell me? What happened, Rose? You uncle finally snap?"

"Keep quiet! You're going to wake him up!"

Hermione's hissed warning amused Severus greatly. The young witch's whispers were almost as loud as a shout. No one, however, seemed overly concerned that he would actually wake. Did he truly appear that exhausted?

In a much lower voice, Ron asked, "What happened? Mum worried about you before we left for Egypt, but Dad didn't think your relatives would actually hurt you."

"No, just starve her," Ginny muttered angrily. Then, obviously responding to Rose's expression, she defensively added, "You know it's true, Rose. Mum debated taking you to St. Mungo's after Fred and George rescued you from your relatives that time with the car."

There was a lengthy silence interspersed with much shuffling. By then, the Potions Master was too curious to end his charade. What would Rose say about her attack?

"Look, Ron, I'm sorry, but I just didn't want to make a big deal about it. I didn't even tell Hermione; she guessed. Some friends of Dudley's decided to kick the stuffing out of me last year. Snape found me after it was over and was injured for his efforts. So, it's my fault he could barely walk, not some Potions accident."

"Dudley? Your cousin Dudley? Why would you let a bunch of his Muggle friends beat you up? And, how'd they manage to hurt Snape? He's, like, some dueling legend."

Rose let out a tiny cry of distress as (from the sound of it) Hermione smacked Ron on the forearm. Not caring about her voice level, she screeched at her friend

"Out! Get out, Ronald Weasley, until you learn not to be such a bloody git! Rose didn't let anyone do anything! I doubt she even had her wand! Don't you dare blame her!"

Severus sat up just as the bushy-haired girl chased Ronald Weasley outside. Ginny gave Rose an apologetic pat on the arm before trailing more slowly behind.

"Sorry, Professor. We didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't apologize. And, don't fret. I'm—"

"Fine. Yeah, you said. Might be more convincing, though, if you weren't as pale as the Bloody Baron."

"That bad? I must look in mirrors more often. But, then, vampires can't see their reflections."

"Very funny," she groused even though her spirits seemed to lift. "Have you heard anything about this Dark Mark everyone seems to be so upset about?"

He raised his eyebrow at her question, although he suspected it was a diversionary tactic.

"You aren't upset?"

Shrugging, she looked out the window. "Not really. It's just a symbol. I guess I'm more upset about Mr. Roberts, but at least his family wasn't there. I thought maybe you'd heard about what happened that night from one of your Death Eater friends."

"Hardly my friends, Rose. Besides, I have not been up to entertaining company lately."

"That's one way to put it." She paused, and then asked in a much softer voice, "You aren't cross with me, are you? I didn't tell Hermione; honestly, I didn't, Professor. She really did just guess."

"Why would I be cross? Miss Granger is very perceptive. I meant what I said earlier, you are lucky to have such a good friend."

"I used to have two," she grumbled to herself.

He squashed the impulse to compare Ronald Weasley to a troll. Instead, he found himself defending the impulsive young wizard. "In his own way, Mr. Weasley means well, Rose. I recall he stood beside you in your second year when many thought you the Heir of Slytherin."

"I guess. But, he doesn't seem so loyal now that I'm dating a Slytherin."

"Have you ever considered that he might be jealous?"

"Of Draco? Why? Draco's life was worse than mine! At least I could tell myself that Uncle Vernon wasn't actually related to me. No matter what lies Aunt Petunia told me, I always knew my parents loved me. Lucius thought Draco a huge disappointment, and he has the scars to prove it."

"But to the outside world, Draco is a wealthy, spoiled pure-blood who has been given every advantage."

"You think Ron's jealous because Draco's family has more money than his?"

"I think it plays a part."

He also suspected the boy had feelings for Rose that went beyond friendship, but he wasn't about to voice that suspicion aloud. Why else would the young wizard spend so much time in her and Granger's company?

"Maybe. Or maybe Ron's just being an immature git. Either way, I wish he'd grow up."

Snape didn't have an answer for that.

* * *

Sitting at the Head Table, Severus picked at his food as he ignored the concerned glances the other members of the staff kept throwing him. Reunited with his colleagues, he couldn't conceive how any one of them could possibly be a faithful servant of the Dark Lord. Even the embittered Squib Argus Filch would never dream of betraying any student to a wizard like Lord Voldemort.

He listened without interest to the conversation swirling around him. Most of it concerned the Quidditch World Cup, a subject he knew far better than anyone sitting at the table. The rest involved speculation about who would be picked as the Hogwarts champion for the TriWizard Tournament. It was ridiculously easy to ignore such conjecture since no one from Slytherin stood a chance in hell of being chosen.

Once he'd given up on dinner, his eyes found Rose. She appeared to have forgiven Ronald Weasley if the seating arrangements that night were any indication. Ron and Hermione sat across from her while Fred and George Weasley sat on either side. Mildly surprised, Severus wondered why the twins would wish to spend time with a fourth year rather than reacquaint themselves with their peers. A vaguely alarming thought passed through his head before he dismissed it as absurd.

Casually, his eyes swept the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle sat next to Draco, but the spaces across from them were empty. Pansy sat on the opposite end of the table with Milicent Bulstrode as her only companion. Most ate without looking left or right, and the tension at the long table was a palpable force. Frowning, he vowed to interrogate Black at the first opportunity. He wouldn't tolerate a repeat of last year's bullying.

When the plates disappeared, Snape paid scant attention to the Headmaster's announcements, focusing instead on the reaction of the student body to the news that Quidditch had been cancelled in favor of the TriWizard Tournament. While there were angry shouts from all sides, even his Slytherins perked up when Dumbledore announced the grand prize of one thousand galleons.

The announcement was almost overshadowed by the arrival of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Alastor Moody did know how to make an entrance; he would be gossip fodder amongst the students for days to come. The ex-Auror sat on the opposite end of the table, close to Hagrid and Dumbledore. Snape had no occasion to welcome him to Hogwarts. Instead, as soon as the students were dismissed, the Headmaster demanded his attention.

"Severus, a word in my office, if you don't mind."

He did mind, but he had missed the beginning of year staff meeting, and no doubt Dumbledore had more than a few instructions he needed to impart. As they slowly made their way to the Headmaster's office, Snape had to suppress several caustic remarks. For some reason, Albus paused to comment on almost every picture, making their trek an agonizing crawl rather than the Headmaster's usual brisk pace. Frankly, Severus didn't care to know how many times Merlin's image had been painted during the Renaissance, but the older wizard enlightened him nonetheless.

Finally, they arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's domain. With a quietly whispered "sugar quill" they ascended the steps leading to Albus' office. Surprisingly, however, Dumbledore led him past his desk and gestured for the Potions Master to enter his private quarters.

"Please sit, my boy. I apologize for dragging you here, but I didn't know if you'd given Rose access to your rooms. What I have to say is best left between us."

He sat at the table the Headmaster indicated, and a bowl of steaming chicken soup immediately appeared in front of him. It was the second time that evening that the old man had managed to surprise him. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow.

Dumbledore peered sheepishly over his half-moon spectacles. "You barely touched your dinner, Severus. I know loss of appetite is one of the lingering effects of Phoenix Flu, but I thought something lighter might tempt you."

Obediently, he tasted a spoonful. Now that he was not obsessing over which staff member might actually be in the Dark Lord's employ, he found himself ravenous. He had finished half the bowl before he realized that the Headmaster hadn't spoken a word.

Abruptly, he understood and looked to his mentor in shocked disbelief. "You're concerned! You rambled on about those bloody portraits so I wouldn't tire myself walking here. You were sitting too far away to possibly notice what I did or did not eat. Please tell me you haven't enlisted the house-elves to spy on me."

The older wizard's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I have not, although the idea is tempting." Rapidly, sobering, he placed his arm on the younger man's shoulder. "Everyone is concerned, my boy. The high fever alone—"

Feeling very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, he quietly interrupted. "My Healer declared me fit, Albus. Appearances aside, I assure you that I am more than capable of teaching my classes."

"It's not your classes I'm worried about, Severus. When are you going to understand how much you mean to me, my boy?"

Much later, he would acknowledge that some part of him had understood Albus' meaning exactly. His conscious mind, however, was not prepared for such a revelation. Irritably, he dismissed the Headmaster's declaration.

"I am well aware of my value as your spy, Albus. I know you were disappointed when I took in Rose for exactly that reason, but certain events of this summer have led me to believe that I may yet—"

"Severus."

The pain in his mentor's voice stopped him short. Dumbledore took advantage of his bewilderment to speak. As he did, his eyes never left his Potions Master.

"I know I have done little to earn your trust over the past year, but I have never been prouder of you, my boy. I marveled at your ability to care for the child of your rival even as I began to fear that you would care too much. I admit to being astounded and overjoyed that you have overcome the injustices of the past, your friendship with Sirius Black being the prime example. When Kingsley told me you had taken ill with Phoenix Flu, it was all I could do not to Apparate through Black's wards and take you to St. Mungo's myself."

The older man's voice wavered as he gently gripped a stunned Severus Snape by the shoulders.

"Perhaps it is my fault for assuming you understood all these years, but your value to me does not lie in your worth as a spy, nor does it depend on your continued employment at Hogwarts. Haven't you realized that by now, Severus? You are the son I never had, and the thought you dying ignorant of my regard has plagued me these past two weeks. So, please pardon an old man's foolishness, but I took the liberty of contacting your N.E.W.T. level students by owl before the beginning of term. They have all volunteered to serve as teaching assistants in your lower level classes for the next month."

The sound of his pulse pounded in his ears. As much as he had desired Lily's forgiveness, he had craved the approval of the man sitting across from him. To hear it now after fearing his recent actions had become a source of permanent friction stole the breath from his lungs. After a long moment, however, he realized Dumbledore awaited his response.

"For the first time, Albus, you have left me quite speechless. I truly do not know what to say."

The twinkle returned to the old man's eye. Standing, he smiled benevolently at Severus. "You needn't say anything, my boy. The expression on your face truly said it all. Finish your soup while I tell you the latest information I have about Bertha Jorkins' disappearance."

After Dumbledore revealed that his agent had found no trace of the witch, the two went on to discuss the meaning of Rose's vision. Although the Headmaster tried to hide it, he was obviously disturbed by the girl's ability to see the Dark Lord's movements. However, he refused to speculate on possible causes. Nor would he speculate on the identity of the Dark Lord's servant, although Dumbledore did suggest that one of the staff might be possessed like Quirrel or Imperiused. Neither explanation satisfied Snape, who had experienced that part of the dream through Rose's eyes. However, after a scant half hour, the Headmaster insisted he retire to his rooms to rest for the first day of classes.

"As soon as I speak to my Slytherins."

"Of course. I'm sure they're anxious to see you as well. Just promise me you won't spend the rest of the night brewing. You need your rest."

"And, the Hospital Wing needs fresh potions, but I will accede to your wishes tonight. Sleeping on the train was not as restful as I had hoped."

The Headmaster chuckled as he led him to the door. "No, I imagine not."

Standing on the stone steps as they descended to the seventh floor, Snape's thoughts were conflicted. He suspected Dumbledore had been quite cagey when discussing the meaning of Rose's nightmare. He had the distinct impression the powerful wizard knew exactly why the teen experienced such disturbing visions.

To be fair, Severus had kept his own secrets. While he was touched and flattered by the Headmaster's admission, he had never considered confessing that his bout of Phoenix Flu was nothing more than a ploy to protect Rose. Nor had he mentioned that Black would have the run of Slytherin House as an Irish Wolfhound. While he admired and respected—even loved—the old man, he refused to allow such sentiment to compromise Rose's security.

Like father, like son, he decided with a smirk.


	11. Far From Normal

Author's Notes - Hi! I can't tell you how much all the reviews, alerts and favorites have meant to me over the last week. They were a bright spot during a stressful time. I hope you continue to enjoy the story, which as you will see, veers a bit from the Goblet of Fire in this chapter. Reviews and comments are always appreciated, even if it takes me a while to respond!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Standing in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room, Severus Snape scrutinized the first years who had been Sorted into his House that evening. Ten in all, seven wizards and three witches, they stood in a huddled group to one side, obviously intimidated by their older housemates. He'd rectify that situation after addressing the entire group.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. I trust you came prepared to study and with your summer assignments completed. As this is a new year, I shall not dwell on the events of the last except to reiterate that bullying will not be tolerated. I could mention that I expect you to earn more House points, but after last year's dismal showing, I suspect such advice would be redundant. Before I have a word with our newest members of Slytherin House, does anyone have any questions?"

The room suddenly filled with raised hands, which didn't surprise Snape in the least. There were always questions, and bound to be more now that the TriWizard Tournament had been announced.

"Yes, Mr. Warrington?"

"What date will be used to determine eligibility for the TriWizard Tournament? I'll be of age in a month."

"You must be of age on the day you put your name up for consideration, which occurs at the end of October. So, yes, Mr. Warrington, you would be eligible. As for the rest of you, let me assure you that the Headmaster meant what he said. Underage wizards and witches will not be allowed to apply. There will be no exceptions to this rule, full stop."

Several hands went down, but there were enough remaining that Severus feared it would be a very long evening.

"What is your question, Mr. Harper?"

"Why can't we play Quidditch this year, Professor? Only one student from Hogwarts will compete in the tournament. What are the rest of us supposed to do?"

"Watch," he answered tersely. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he added after a beat, "Or join the Dueling Club. I will post the meeting time on the board tomorrow afternoon."

There was an excited murmur that rippled through the Common Room. Even the first years appeared interested in his announcement. Severus thought it a brilliant plan. He'd long believed the students needed a more practical approach to defense, and the Dueling Club would provide that. Plus, Rose could practice her growing skills on a variety of opponents.

Several more hands went down. "Yes, Mr. Bole?"

The seventh year appeared somewhat hesitant to ask his question, which surprised Severus. Although quiet, Hugh Bole was not shy.

"Professor Dumbledore informed several of us that you'd been seriously ill over the summer. He said . . . he said it was Phoenix Flu."

Crossing his arms, Severus recalled all the reasons why he hated Albus' interference in his life. No doubt the old man had meant well, but the last thing he desired was the sympathy of his students, especially after the lingering shame of his supposed Potions accident. The disdain in his voice when he replied, therefore, was quite real.

"Did you have a question, Mr. Bole? Or were you simply keen to spread unnecessary gossip?"

"Neither," the young man stammered. "We simply wished to help. If you need anything, sir, anything at all . . . ." He trailed off, suddenly at a loss.

Snape raised his eyebrows, completely taken aback. "_We_, Mr. Bole?"

The studious young man blushed as he ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. "A few of us, sir, mostly your N.E.W.T. level students. Professor Dumbledore said you could use a teaching assistant for some of your classes, but we thought we'd offer to do some brewing as well."

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Pepperup Potion wasn't that difficult to brew, nor was the potion Poppy preferred to clean out wounds. Perhaps it was time for his more advanced students to garner some practical experience. His time could certainly be better used elsewhere.

"Thank you, Mr. Bole. I hope you were sincere in your offer for I intend to accept it. Any N.E.W.T. level student who wishes to brew potions for the Hospital Wing should report to my office tomorrow after dinner. Any further questions?"

Pansy Parkinson held her hand up high, a nasty smirk on her face. Severus gritted his teeth. "Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Have you banged Draco's mum yet?"

The flames in the fireplace flared and then abruptly snuffed out as Severus battled his rage. He unthinkingly pulled out his wand, causing the students nearest him to take a hasty step backwards. Beyond reason, he would forever wonder what he would have done had Draco not hurled a Stunner in Pansy's direction. Reacting on instinct alone, he cast a Shield Charm in front of the intolerable witch. The spell glanced off the shield and smashed into the wall leaving a smoking hole in the masonry.

For a singular moment, time seemed to stretch. Snape watched Pansy's arrogance crumble as she looked to the damage done to the wall. In his peripheral vision, he could see Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott restrain Draco. The first years had scattered to the edges of the Common Room as had many others. Strangely, Callum Derrick hovered to his right while Hugh Bole sent a high-backed chair skidding across the floor.

As his perception reverted to normal, the green leather chair bumped against the back of his knees with enough force to send him falling into it. Only then did he understand that his entire body shook with fury, although with Narcissa's charms his reaction could easily be mistaken for weakness.

For a brief interlude, he sat bent over in the chair, his hands pressed against his head. He needed to calm down before he did something he would regret. During that short interval not one person opened their mouth to speak, for which he was truly grateful. When he did look up, he leveled a baleful stare at Pansy Parkinson. With a malicious grin, he realized she shook as much as he.

His ire abruptly vanished to be replaced by a crushing fatigue. He'd almost done the one thing he'd vowed never to do—use his magic in anger against a student. He glared at the impertinent teen who now refused to meet his eyes. Wearily, he spoke in a too calm voice that carried to all corners of the room.

"Miss Parkinson, the number of points I could deduct for your insolence would rob Slytherin of the House Cup before classes begin. Your blatant disrespect is surpassed only by your crass lack of manners. However, I grow weary of punishing the House at large for your transgressions. You will therefore serve a month's detention with Mr. Filch as well as suffer through tea with the Headmaster tomorrow afternoon in his office. Moreover, I intend to owl your parents and inform them that I can no longer in good conscience teach you Potions. Report to Mr. Filch immediately after dinner tomorrow. You are dismissed."

Pansy stormed off towards her dormitory, every eye upon her. As soon as she had walked out of sight, however, the Common Room erupted in sound. Severus didn't bother to demand quiet. Instead, he looked to his Prefects.

"Mr. Bole, Miss Dalton, please take the first years to their dormitories and make them welcome. Assign each of them a suitable second or third year who can ensure they find their classes in the morning."

The first years safely out of the way, Severus gazed resignedly at the remainder of his students. "That was not how I intended to welcome you back," he stated in a firm tone. "However, I refuse to let the actions of a single person mar what I hope will be a successful year. If there are no more questions, I suggest you return to your rooms to unpack."

There were none. As the students began to file out of the Common Room, he added in a waspish voice. "Mr. Malfoy, I have not forgotten that you attempted to injure Miss Parkinson. Come here."

As the blond wizard marched sullenly to his side, several of his classmates whispered words of support. If nothing else, Parkinson's rudeness had garnered some sympathy for the young Malfoy heir. At least he need not worry about the teen being shunned by his fellow Slytherins.

While the Common Room continued to empty of students, Snape delivered a blistering tirade, although he made no move to stand. "I am appalled by your lack of restraint, Mr. Malfoy. To send a Stunner flying at Miss Parkinson for a rude comment, no matter the subject, shows a gross lack of maturity on your part. You will serve detention with me for the next month for your display of temper. And, let me reiterate, that such behavior will not . . . ."

He trailed off, certain that they were finally alone. As soon as he stopped speaking, Draco crouched beside the chair. The boy's surly expression instantly changed to one of anxiety.

"Should I call for Madame Pomfrey? Is your chest hurting? Rose and I looked up Phoenix Flu and it said that there was a possibility of heart complications. I told her Healer Welby had cleared you, but she—"

Interrupting midsentence, he waved off Draco's concern. "There is no reason to contact Madame Pomfrey. I saw no point in continuing since we are now alone."

Draco scanned the room before turning back to Snape. "You're sure you're alright, sir? You were shaking so badly I thought you would fall over."

Ignoring the question, he spoke candidly to Narcissa's son.

"While I understand your reaction tonight, Draco, you did your mother no favors. It would have been far better had you scoffed at such an absurd notion rather than attacking Pansy like she had exposed some dirty little secret."

"But it's not such an absurd notion, is it, Professor? I mean, you and Mum have been spending quite a lot of time together."

Severus ground his teeth as he clenched his jaw. "If that is a question, Mr. Malfoy, it is not one I have any intention of answering. Your mother's private life and mine are just that—private."

Draco blanched. "I didn't mean it that way, Professor! What you and Mum get up to, I mean . . . ."

"Unless you wish to make this conversation more awkward than it already is, I suggest you stop right there. I'm certain you learned from your father the importance of appearances. While I commend you for defending your mother's honor, some will see your reaction as confirmation of Pansy's tactless accusation. In the future, it would be far better for you to make some dismissive, disparaging comment about me rather than take offense at the question."

"But . . . !" As the teen mulled over Snape's advice, he slowly calmed. "Fine, I'll pretend that Mother couldn't possibly see anything in you. Which do you prefer, greasy git, or bat of the dungeons?"

"Cheek, Draco." Severus' warning, however, came with a smile. "You will still have to serve detention."

"Could you give Rose detention, too?"

"And why would you think she'd enjoy cleaning out cauldrons for a month?"

"I have to clean out cauldrons?!"

The indignation in his voice made his Head of House smile. "I'm sure I can find something more inventive. As for Rose, you'll have ample opportunity to see her. Now, go to bed and tell that dog of yours that he'd better not go wandering off tonight."

Pausing, he added thoughtfully, "Or hex Parkinson for that matter. Your cousin cares little for appearances, but it would be unwise for him to reveal his presence."

"Yes, sir."

Snape watched Draco leave before he slowly stood. With a flick of his wand, he returned the chair to its proper place. First Dumbledore's confession and now this—he wasn't sure he could take any more emotion upheaval that night. Retreating swiftly to his quarters, the Potions Master considered his reaction to that horrid girl's taunt. Truth be told, he should thank Draco for his impulsiveness; it had precluded him from blindly lashing out. With that disturbing thought in the forefront of his mind, it took him several hours to fall asleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Walking into his Potions classroom after an early, hurried breakfast, Snape instantly noticed the clean cauldrons sitting on the tables alongside several Potions ingredients. For an incredible moment he wondered if the house-elves had taken it upon themselves to assist him, but then he noticed the responsible party standing near his stores.

"Mr. Diggory, I trust you had a decent summer?"

The affable Hufflepuff grinned as he turned towards the Potions Master. "Better than yours, I imagine, sir. How are you?"

"Much better than I look," he answered dryly.

"That's fantastic, Professor Snape." Cedric's Diggory reply was filled with false cheer; he evidently did not believe his teacher's assurances. Snape hoped Narcissa's Charm would wear off soon. "I set out all the ingredients for the Boil Cure Potion except for the crushed snake fangs. You seem to be out."

"I'll ask Hagrid if he has any. I've not had the opportunity to restock the school's supplies."

"I'll ask him, Professor. I was about to leave for breakfast anyway. If he doesn't, should I put out the ingredients for a Fever Reducing Potion? That's easy enough to brew."

"Thank you, Mr. Diggory, but I'd rather not trust such costly ingredients to a group of first years. No, if Hagrid doesn't have any, I'll switch to a burn healing paste."

"Sure thing, Professor. I'll ask Hagrid straight off."

The young man raced out of the dungeon before Severus could thank him for his help. Temporarily alone, he sat at his desk to review his lesson plan before his students starting filtering in. At least with a class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, the students would be on time. Pomona ensured that her new students travelled to class as a group, and Filius left maps of the castle in the Ravenclaw Common Room for those few students who hadn't already memorized the layout from Hogwarts, A History.

He should suggest maps to Minerva. The Gryffindors were the only ones who repeatedly had difficulty finding their classes the first week of school. He'd asked her about it once, and she'd told him that the experience helped instill her first years with a sense of self-reliance. While an admirable goal, he thought there were more constructive ways of achieving it.

He heard the distinct sound of Alastor Moody's presence before he saw him. The ex-Auror turned Defense instructor stomped purposefully into Snape's classroom, his magical eye whirring in its socket.

"Snape! Wasn't expecting to find you here so early. I was certain you'd be lazing in bed after such a nasty illness. You don't mind me checking your office and classroom, do you?"

"Check them for what?" he asked, feeling slightly off kilter. Moody's attitude bordered on hostile, quite unlike their prior conversation during Rose's birthday party.

"With your past, I think you know precisely what I'm looking for."

"I really don't."

The scarred wizard did not take kindly to his genuine befuddlement. "Don't play innocent with me, Snape. Others may have conveniently forgotten that you're a Death Eater, but I haven't. Who knows what Dark objects you keep hidden from view."

He couldn't believe the man's gall. Biting sarcasm laced his reply. "Hundreds, obviously. After all, if I'm to raise the next Dark Lord, I'll need to properly train her. What do you drink in that flask of yours besides pumpkin juice, Moody? Firewhiskey? Vodka?"

The new Defense teacher's face turned purple, and Severus belatedly realized that antagonizing a paranoid man might not have been the best of ideas. With an air of resigned indignation, he let the wizard have his way, although he couldn't control his displeasure.

"I can see you are determined to make someone's morning miserable. It might as well be mine. Let me assure you, however, that if I did own anything that could damn me to Azkaban, I would certainly not hide it at Hogwarts under Albus' nose. I don't care what you think about my past, but don't take me for a fool."

"No, just a coward."

Moody made the accusation with such malice that Snape sat stunned. A feeling of unease slid down his spine. He'd only encountered the ex-Auror twice, once at his trial and, much more recently, at Rose's birthday party. At neither time had he sensed the open hostility radiating off the irritated wizard as he did now. What had happened to so drastically change Moody's opinion of him?

Taking his silence for permission, the older man started to rifle through his things with little care for the mess he made. He opened ever door, pulled out every drawer, and inspected each jar of ingredients before stomping angrily to the door.

"You may not be harboring Dark items, but it's clear you're a poor Potions Master. Half the ingredients you should stock are missing. What'd you do, Snape, decide to sell Boomslang skin on the side?"

With an exasperated sniff, he leaned forward in his chair. Really, he didn't have to take this type of treatment, ex-Auror or no.

"You have no right to accuse me of anything of the sort. I humored your obsession with Dark wizards, and now I think it's time for you to leave. If I'm not mistaken, you have a class this morning."

"I have my eyes on you, Snape. One wrong move and I'll—"

"Where you be wanting this, Professor? I'm sorry I didn't get it to yeh sooner, but the blast-ended skrewts gave me a bit a trouble last night."

Tearing his eyes away from Moody, Severus didn't bother to ask Hagrid what a blast-ended skrewt was. He had a horrible feeling that he would be better off not knowing. Instead, warmly greeted the half-giant who had proven to be a true friend as he ignored Alastor Moody's glare.

"If you could put it by the cupboard, Hagrid. Albus' doing, I presume?"

The big man beamed. "An' who else would it be? He was beside hi'self with worry as soon as he heard. Had to do somethin' productive, or he would have given the house-elves fits. Glad to see yeh you up and about, even if yeh do look a bit worse fer wear."

"I'm fine," he protested. "I'm much better—"

"Than yeh look," his fellow professor finished with a chuckle. "Rose told me you'd say that. She an' Ron an' Hermione came teh see me las' night. She's worried, but I told her you wou'dn't let a little thing like Phoenix Flu bother yeh."

He owed the generous man a debt of gratitude for his confidence. Severus knew that Rose respected his opinion since he had been the one to introduce her to her birthright. Before he could respond, however, Moody sullenly announced the he had better things to do with his time than listen to the two wizards gossip like old fishwives. As the new Defense instructor stomped out, Snape couldn't help but scowl.

"Don't let him get to yeh, Professor. I think that incident with the dustbins is getting' to him more than he lets on. Must a been a might embarrassing to raise that big a ruckus over nothin'. Just between yeh and me, Professor Dumbledore gave him quite a talking to."

Nodding, he didn't bother to ask for particulars. Frankly, he didn't care to know Moody's problems; he had enough of his own. When Hagrid offered to put the Potions ingredients away, he politely declined. He wasn't frail, even if everyone else thought otherwise. Thankfully, he didn't waste time arguing.

"I best be getting to my own classes, then. If yeh need anything else, just let me know."

"I shall. Thank you, Hagrid."

Alone again, Severus pondered Alastor Moody's apparent hostility. He didn't know the man well. Perhaps the rumors were true; perhaps he was as paranoid as everyone said. Two years ago, he would have stormed into the Headmaster's office to demand an apology for the wizard's despicable insinuations. Today, however, he dismissed the incident as nothing more than a desperate attempt by a pathetic man to prove himself worthy of Albus' trust. Merlin knew he had enough experience with that.

When Cedric Diggory returned to ask if he needed any more assistance, he deliberately pushed thoughts of Alastor Moody out of his mind. He had first years to impress. Perhaps this would be the year that he would discover a true Potions prodigy. Smirking over his newfound optimism, he eagerly awaited the arrival of the new students.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Over the next few days, Severus quickly settled into a comfortable routine. While he discovered no prodigies, the first years were not quite the dunderheads he had expected them to be. Moreover, his returning students seemed to have retained more knowledge than was their usual wont; their minds were not sieves after all. Although his red quill still slashed through essays, he found himself writing 'commendable effort' more often than not.

He and Rose ate breakfast together in his quarters. Although he suspected she did this to ensure he ate at least one hearty meal, he appreciated the opportunity to speak to her without her friends hovering nearby. While he had undeniably mellowed since becoming her guardian, he still found it easier to relax when he didn't have an audience.

"I can't believe you're giving the Dueling Club another go. Are you certain you're—"

He jokingly pointed his butter knife at her as he interrupted. "I'm fine, Rose. Besides, the Dueling Club is the perfect place for you to practice your skills. One of my Slytherins rightly pointed out that only one person can be the Hogwarts champion. The rest of you need something constructive to do with your free time."

She grabbed the last piece of toast before he could claim it. "That's all anyone can talk about. Do you have a favorite?"

"So long as it is not you, I have no preference."

"That's the last thing I want, Professor. Really, all I'd like is a nice, quiet year."

Sobering, he leaned forward in his chair, breakfast forgotten. "Rose, I understand how much you wish for that, but your vision this summer says otherwise. You must be on guard at all times. The Dark Lord is not going to sit idle. At some point he will act, and we must be ready."

"But, I'm safe at Hogwarts, right? I mean, Mrs. Weasley said that Voldemort was afraid of Professor Dumbledore. He wouldn't attack the school, would he?"

"You're safer at Hogwarts," he agreed. "But that does not mean you can let your guard down. He doesn't have enough power yet to attack the school directly, but he doesn't need to. All he needs is a faithful servant within the castle. Or have you forgotten what Pansy Parkinson and Marcus Flint tried to do last year?"

She bristled initially, but then rapidly deflated. "I haven't. I just hoped that was the end of it. It's not, though, is it?"

"I'm very much afraid that was the beginning."

She stood up to give him a hug. "It's a good thing I love you so much, Professor, because you really know how to make breakfast depressing."

"Rose, I only wish—"

"I know, and I haven't forgotten. It's just . . . I can't think about it all the time. If I promise not to go wandering off by myself, can we at least pretend everything's normal?"

Mulling over her proposition, he took a sip of coffee. Merlin only knew he'd taken every conceivable precaution to keep her safe. After a long minute, he inclined his head. "Agreed, so long as you promise to tell me the minute something out of the ordinary happens, no matter how trivial it may seem."

"I will! I promise! I really appreciate this, Professor!" Exuberant, she gave him another hug, almost tipping his coffee cup in the process. Then, she grabbed her books and raced out the door before he could do more than wish her a good day.

He quickly finished his coffee before undoing the buttons on the cuff of his shirt and carefully unrolling his sleeve. Rose could pretend all she wanted, but there was no denying the evidence imprinted on his skin. In the last month, the mark he'd taken to join the Death Eaters all those years ago had turned several shades darker. Things were far from normal.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Putting away a few unused cauldrons, Severus turned at the sharp sound of Hermione Granger's voice. Although a lovely young witch, when upset her tone could be as shrill as a harpy's.

"You have to do something, Professor. I mean, Rose is alright; at least I think so, sir. But, you should have seen Neville. He'd gone into shock. I don't care if he is an ex-Auror, he shouldn't be allowed to traumatize students like that."

Feeling as if he had missed the first half of the conversation, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Granger, am I to understand that Professor Moody did something during Defense class today that you deem inappropriate?"

"Inappropriate?" She screeched, forgetting for a moment that she addressed a professor. "I'd say it was more than inappropriate! It bordered on illegal! Or do you honestly think we need to see Unforgivables performed in class?!"

Hell no, he wanted to shout. Instead, he demanded an accounting of Moody's actions during the lesson. After hearing a shortened version, he wanted nothing more than to run to Rose to make absolutely sure that she was alright. Hermione, however, had mentioned that she had joined Draco in walking his dog. He suspected the young man was exactly whom she needed to see. Instead, he strode out of the classroom without a word, convinced that the Headmaster had finally lost his marbles for allowing such a nutter to teach.

Opening the door to Moody's classroom without knocking, he ignored the wizard's indignant protests. Instead, he leveled his gaze at the student sitting forlornly in the chair closest to him. Neville held an untouched cup of tea precariously in his right hand. His eyes still glassy with shock, he stared dazedly at his least favorite professor.

"Mr. Longbottom, a word with you. Now."

The tea spilled from the cup. Severus intentionally overlooked it. Instead, he crossed his arms to wait with an air of irritated impatience while the boy woodenly gathered his things. As soon as the Gryffindor stood, Alastor redoubled his protests.

"Now see here, Snape. You have no right to interrupt. I was just telling Longbottom here how highly Professor Sprout thinks of his Herbology work. You can bloody well speak to him later."

"Mr. Longbottom's obvious talent in Herbology is not at issue here. Your reckless disregard for your students' wellbeing is. He shall accompany me, or I can inform Kingsley Shacklebolt of your decision to demonstrate the Cruciatus Curse in front Frank and Alice Longbottom's son. Which will it be?"

Neville stared at him with his mouth agape. Snape didn't waste time asking what had shocked him more: his hated Potions Master's awareness of his proficiency in Herbology or the utterance of his parents' names. Instead, he pulled on the sleeve of the boy's robe until he started moving. When the teen walked down the stairs, he turned stonily to his colleague.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Alastor. I have my eye on you. I don't care what liberties the Headmaster granted, I will not allow you to torment your students in such a fashion."

The scarred man loudly banged his hand on the desk. "They'll be encountering such spells soon enough. You and I both know it's just a matter of time before the Dark Lord's return."

"Perhaps," he coldly acknowledged. "But as the Killing Curse cannot be countered, I see no reason for a practical demonstration, especially in front of someone who has been personally affected by such a spell."

"And, there's the rub, isn't it? You're not talking about Longbottom now, are you?"

Snape swept out of the room without dignifying the jab with a response. Halfway down the stairs, he realized that Neville waited patiently at the door. Nervously, he bit the inside of his cheek. What the hell was he supposed to say to the boy?


	12. Defense Against the Dark Arts

_Snape swept out of the room without comment. Halfway down the stairs, he realized that Neville waited patiently at the door. A nervous jolt ran down his spine. What the hell was he supposed to say to the boy?_

"Follow me."

The harried Potions Master didn't look back to see whether Neville Longbottom followed his curt command. Instead, he strode briskly to the set of hidden stairs that led directly to the dungeons. Frankly, he would be relieved if the teen simply ignored him. They could both blame it on the boy's shock and be done with the entire sordid affair.

Why the hell hadn't he told Longbottom to report to his Head of House? Minerva was much better suited for such emotional nonsense. As soon as that thought formed, he guiltily pushed it aside. He couldn't avoid speaking to the boy forever. It was high time to let go of his lingering resentment. It wasn't Longbottom's fault that the Dark Lord had chosen to mark Rose as his equal rather than him.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, he realized that Miss Granger had not waited for his return like he had hoped. With an air of resignation, he led the nervous Gryffindor into his small office and gestured for him to take a seat.

"I'd offer you tea, but I daresay you don't need any more on your robes."

When the teen colored, he bit back a curse. He hadn't meant it as an insult. Rubbing his temples, he pretended to gaze at a neat pile of parchment in the corner of his otherwise immaculate desk as he pondered what comfort he could offer.

"Mr. Longbottom, I admit to being at a loss. I am not certain what I can say to you. I can't offer you the false hope that your parents will recover from the damage inflicted by the Cruciatus Curse. I can, however, apologize that you were made to watch another being suffer in the same way in front of your friends and classmates. I assure you that I will be speaking to the Headmaster about Professor Moody's inappropriate behavior."

"Don't."

The word was whispered rather than spoken, but there was no mistaking it. Snape, however, didn't understand the request.

"Don't? And why shouldn't I? What Professor Moody did was reprehensible. He should have thought before demonstrating such curses to a group of fourth years."

For the first time, Neville Longbottom looked him in the eye. Severus could scarcely comprehend the conviction smoldering behind his gaze.

"Don't, please, Professor Snape. I know I overreacted, but Professor Moody's right. We need to know . . . need to be able to fight against what's coming, and You-Know-Who's supporters aren't going to be throwing Stinging Hexes."

Finally, he understood why the bumbling, self-conscious boy had been Sorted into Gryffindor. However, the teen's reasoning did not convince him of the wisdom of Moody's methods.

"While your attitude is commendable, Mr. Longbottom, let me reiterate the inappropriateness of your Defense professor's practical demonstration of the three Unforgivables. There is no defense against the Killing Curse, Rose Potter notwithstanding. Nor is there a specific counter-spell to the Cruciatus Curse. The pain generally renders its victims incapable of mounting any sort of resistance. Such a demonstration, therefore, was nothing more than a lesson in cruelty."

"But Gran said they could have—"

"Whatever your grandmother said about countering the Cruciatus was merely wishful thinking. I know; I have been subjected to it more than once. I could barely raise my wand, much less remember how to cast a spell. Your parents were ambushed by four Death Eaters, Mr. Longbottom. What happened was in no way their fault."

"You . . . you've been Cruciated, Professor?"

He wanted to sneer that it was none of the Gryffindor's business. Since he'd brought the subject up, however, he could hardly react in such a manner.

"Yes. However, I did not mention it to garner sympathy. I merely wished to assure you that your parents did everything they could."

"Yes, sir."

The boy answered a trifle too quickly for Severus to believe that he'd changed his mind. For a moment, he considered dropping the subject. Longbottom appeared to have recovered from his shock. He could dismiss the boy and be done with it. However, he felt owed him more than that. Besides, he'd meant to offer the lackluster student a second chance at Potions the year prior. Really, the conversation was long overdue.

"That fact aside, I am hesitant to ignore Professor Moody's reckless behavior."

"But, Professor!"

He glared at Neville for intruding even as he marveled at his impertinence. As far as he knew, it was the first time the Aurors' child had spoken back to a teacher. Even though one withering glance was enough to send his mouth snapping shut, the boy might prove to be Gryffindor material after all.

"Mr. Longbottom, you will not interrupt! You are not the only student in Defense, nor are you the only one to have been affected by that needless display."

The teen blanched, his eyes widening in sudden understanding. "Rose. You-Know-Who cast the Killing Curse on her parents, didn't he, sir?"

The young wizard sitting before him with his arms crossed protectively over his chest had no idea that Rose Potter had herself been Cruciated. At least the Weasleys had kept quiet about the nature of Pettigrew's attack. Albus had taken pains to cover up the fact that Rose had been hit with that particular curse. Everyone involved had been asked to keep the information secret. Amazingly, even Rita Skeeter hadn't managed to uncover it.

"Just so. You can therefore understand my dilemma. As Miss Potter's guardian, I must consider her wellbeing above all else."

"Rose wouldn't want you to get our Defense teacher sacked in the first week of class, Professor Snape. I'm sure she'd want to learn as much Defense Against the Dark Arts as possible."

"Indeed, Mr. Longbottom. I'm sure she wouldn't. Perhaps I should overlook Professor Moody's lack of professionalism for now. However, I do so with one condition: that you report to me immediately if he ever utilizes an Unforgiveable in class again. Is that understood?"

In his excitement, Neville shot to his feet. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Snape had to stifle a smile at the boy's sudden enthusiasm. "Sit down, Mr. Longbottom. I have not dismissed you."

Deflating, he slumped in the straight wooden chair. "Yes, Professor?"

"Professor Sprout is rightly impressed by your aptitude for Herbology. Surely you must realize the close relationship between Herbolgy and Potions? Why, then, is your Potions work so abysmal?"

He caught a glimpse of the child's reddened cheeks before he ducked his head. Severus wondered just how far his newfound bravery would go.

"I get nervous in a crowd, sir."

"Extraordinary. I had no idea Herbology was a class of one. Professor Sprout must have an extremely busy schedule."

"I . . . I'm not sure why I have so many problems in Potions, Professor Snape."

Severus couldn't decide if the Gryffindor had finally lost his nerve or was too polite to directly insult a teacher or both. It mattered little at the moment. He'd found the opening he'd been searching for.

"Perhaps your first impression is indeed correct, Mr. Longbottom. Perhaps you would benefit from a different environment. It is a worthwhile theory at any rate. I propose we test it."

"Sir?"

With a flash of impatience, he explained. "I'm offering you private lessons, Mr. Longbottom. Several of my N.E.W.T. level students will be brewing in the Potions lab for the Hospital Wing on Wednesday evenings. If you are interested, I would be willing to tutor you in remedial Potions at that time."

While he hadn't expected an enthusiastic yes, he had to bite the inside of his cheek when Neville took an inordinate amount of time to reply. Finally, the teen nodded in agreement, only belatedly remembering to give a verbal answer.

"Yeah, I mean, yes. Sir. I mean . . . I'll do it, Professor Snape, sir. Thank you, sir."

Merlin, but the boy could become as tongue-tied as Rose. Hoping he hadn't just committed his time to a lost cause, he quickly dismissed the Gryffindor before he could ask any awkward questions. Neville fled his cramped office without a glance backwards.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Professor! You shouldn't have walked all this way! You'll have a relapse."

Stupid, bloody Charm. He swore he saw the mutt smirking as Rose berated him for walking to the far side of the lake. At least Draco had the good sense to keep quiet, although judging by the worry on his face, he shared Rose's concerns.

"I find the sunshine therapeutic."

"You heard about the Unforgivables, you mean."

"That too."

"Well, you needn't have bothered. I'm fine."

Her assertion would have carried more weight if she hadn't been clutching a rock in her hand so tightly that it left an impression in her palm. When she became aware of her discomfort, she hurled it into the lake. Draco reached out to put his hand on her arm, but she took a deliberate step away from him, leaving him grasping empty air.

Severus nodded gravely. "Yes, I can see that."

His gentle sarcasm only incensed her. Pacing in front of the two of them, she agitatedly pulled on her charm bracelet.

"I'm fine! And, I'm tired of everyone worrying that I'm not! You shouldn't even be out here! So, he cast some curses, so what? Voldemort's going to try to kill me again this year, so I don't see why I'm getting upset about some stupid spiders. I mean, it's not like they're people."

The younger Slytherin grimaced at the Dark Lord's name. Severus shot him a look of annoyance before softening his features to reassure Rose.

"No one thinks you're weak, Rose. It's perfectly normal to be upset by what you saw. Your mother was killed in front of you with _Avada Kedavra_. Pettigrew Cruciated you. The reminder was quite unnecessary."

Letting out a short huff of air, she checked her bracelet for damage before dropping her arms to her side. "I just . . . most everyone else acted like it was some game, Professor. They thought it was brilliant."

Draco snorted. "I guess he only told the Slytherins to get used to the Cruciatus, then. Moody said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be using it on most of us soon enough. Believe me when I say no one in the class thought it brilliant."

The mutt growled while Rose's eyes flared with rage. Snape could hardly believe Draco's story, although he didn't doubt the boy's truthfulness. That decided him; he intended on having a long talk with the ex-Auror.

"What did he say about the other two curses?"

Draco stared at some point in the middle of the lake, suddenly reluctant to answer. Rose closed the distance she had put between them to take his hand. Although he laced his fingers through hers, he refused to meet anyone's eyes when he finally answered.

"He said not to practice the Killing Curse on the Gryffindors. I thought he was making some sort of sick joke until I noticed that he was staring straight at Pansy. It was like he was warning her not to go after Rose."

"And the Imperius?"

The lanky blond's shoulders stiffened. "He said the Imperius Curse can make you betray your best friend to the Dark Lord." Only then did he turn around, but not before he had dropped Rose's hand. "He was staring at me when he said it, Professor."

Rose immediately threw her arms around him. "You wouldn't. You'd fight it off. I know you, Draco; you wouldn't betray me."

"How do you know I wasn't speaking about Goyle, Potter?"

He smirked at his cleverness until she pulled him down for a kiss, which after a second he readily returned. Snape fought the unexpected urge to break them apart. Sirius had no such reservation, barking wildly until the two separated. Unrepentant, a flushed Rose Potter grinned devilishly at her friend, who appeared to be somewhat stunned.

"Because you wouldn't let Goyle do that." She paused for a beat and then added cheekily, "At least, I hope you wouldn't."

As he began to sputter, she took off running with a playful shriek, her robes trailing behind her. Malfoy quickly gave chase, leaving Severus alone with Black in his Animagus form. The wolfhound peered up at him expectantly.

"Don't look at me, mutt. This is definitely more your area of expertise."

Black yipped with laughter all the way back to the castle.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Really, Severus, you haven't taken enough food to feed a bird. Here, try some fish."

Filius Flitwick shot him a quick look of sympathy as Madame Pomfrey put a large piece of fried cod on his plate. He sneered at the kindhearted school matron out of habit, although it must not have been one of his better efforts. Poppy unrepentantly smiled at the face he made.

Taking a bite of the crispy fish, he ate without tasting. He was too busy considering how to best confront the Defense instructor sitting across from him. When Minerva plopped a heaping spoonful of boiled cabbage next to his small serving of potatoes, he decided to speak to the ex-Auror in front of an audience. If nothing else, it would serve as a distraction for the two witches seated beside him. He grew weary of their constant mothering.

Without preamble, he sharply addressed his fellow teacher. "Alastor, I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from terrifying my Slytherins. They seem to be under the impression that the Dark Lord will soon rise up and torture them all. Such a theory seems a tad extreme, even for you."

"Alastor Moody! Shame on you for scaring innocent children like that!"

Moody's magical eye swiveled to glare at Poppy Pomfrey, although his attention never wavered from Severus.

"I doubt anyone could call Slytherins innocent. Most of their parents were followers of the Dark Lord, even if they did claim coercion as soon as he disappeared. They need to know what's in store for them when he returns."

McGonagall sniffed in disapproval. "When he returns, Alastor? Surely you mean to say if he returns?"

The scars on his face stretched grotesquely as he grinned. "Don't like to think about that, do you? Ask Snape here about his Dark Mark and then tell me it's not a certainty."

The Potions Master choked on a bite of cabbage. Why in Merlin's name had Albus mentioned his Dark Mark to Moody? The insufferable wizard seemed keen to remind everyone of his days as a Death Eater.

"I really don't think—"

"Constant vigilance, I tell you! Constant vigilance!"

The man shouted his advice like it was a patented slogan, interrupting Severus without a thought. The frustrated Potions Master slammed his fist down on the table. For a moment, he held his dinner companions' rapt attention.

"Showing fourth years the Unforgivable Curses does nothing to prepare them," he snarled. "I can only surmise that you were deliberately trying to intimidate them."

Filius, Poppy and Minerva all began talking at once, each of them extremely agitated to learn that students had been shown the Unforgivables. Pomona nervously straightened her tattered hat until the heated mutterings died down.

"Severus is right. What you did was cruel, Alastor. At least a dozen of my students have come to me to upset about the death of the spiders you used in class. I wish I had considered how some of the students might have felt watching such a demonstration. Can you imagine how poor Mr. Longbottom must have reacted?"

"Surely, you didn't!"

"I assure you, Minerva, he did."

"But what of Miss Potter?"

The blood drained from Poppy Pomfrey's face as Minerva gasped in horror. Wishing Filius hadn't asked the question, Severus took his time in forming an appropriate reply. Moody, however, responded first.

"I thought the Cruciatus would affect her more than it did, considering Pettigrew's use of it, but she didn't so much as close her eyes. And, the Killing Curse only seemed to make her angry. She's tougher than she looks; I'll give her credit for that."

The kindhearted school matron wrung her hands. "Alastor Moody, how could you? She's a young woman, not a test subject!"

"She's a target. The sooner she acknowledges that, the safer we'll all be. I'm here to teach her Defense, not befriend her. Ask Dumbledore if you think I'm overstepping my bounds. He suggested starting with the fourth years, not me."

With that, the grizzled ex-Auror pushed back his chair and stomped out of the Great Hall. Severus followed a few minutes later, ignoring the looks of dismay on his colleagues' faces as he left another plate of food mostly untouched. The comment about his Dark Mark kept gnawing at him, as did the wizard's allusion to the fact that Rose had been Cruciated. Albus hadn't informed him that he had taken Moody so deeply into his confidence. He wanted a private word with Hogwarts' newest professor before confronting the Headmaster.

However, when he reached the Defense classroom, it was dark and empty. Rapping loudly on the door to Moody's office, Snape suddenly remembered the Marauder's Map. With a quickly, "_Accio_," he soon held the seemingly blank piece of parchment in his hand. At least with the map he could track Moody down rather than stand outside his quarters all evening.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He whispered, hating the phrase. It reminded him too much of the Marauders at their arrogant worst.

Casting _Lumos_, he searched for Alastor Moody's name on the map. Damn the man, but he was in his office after all. This time, he pounded on the door.

"Open up, Moody. I know you're in there!"

Infuriatingly, he received no response. After announcing himself yet again, he blasted the door open, fully expecting to confront the scarred wizard. Yet, the office, too, was dark and seemingly empty.

"Moody?"

Flicking on the light, he glanced at his hazy reflection in the mirror on the wall. It obviously needed a good cleaning. His eyes next drifted to a large Sneakoscope, which emitted a high-pitched wail as it spun crazily on the desk. Lining the shelves were Dark-detectors, spell books and more than a few broken wands. None of the paraphernalia held his interest. Instead, his eyes fixed on a large, magical trunk sitting next to the bookshelf.

Oddly, the map showed the name 'Alastor Moody' exactly where the trunk sat on the floor. Snape rapidly grew tired of the wizard's bizarre behavior.

"Damn it, Moody, show yourself!"

Nothing. And, then, he felt a prickle down his back. Instinctively, he glanced down at the Marauder's map as he heard Moody growl his name from the door.

"Snape! What the hell are you doing in my office?!"

Shoulders stiffening, the master spy carefully folded the map and pocketed it before turning around. He smirked at the wizard wearing the celebrated Auror's face.

"Hello, Barty."

A jet of red light sped from the imposter's wand, but Snape had already jumped aside to cast a disarming spell. The duel ended before it was properly begun, Barty Crouch immobilized by a Full Body Bind while Snape towered over him. Glaring at the man on the floor, Severus coldly kicked his wand away.

The imposter's magical eye continued to swivel anxiously in its socket as Severus cast his Patronus. Once the doe raced out the door to deliver its message, the Potions Master leaned heavily against the cluttered desk as he struggled with his emotions. Taking out the Marauder's Map, he checked it a final time, but the name remained the same—Barty Fucking Crouch.

The Headmaster raced into the room a few minutes later. He took one look at the man on the floor before turning towards Snape to peer intently over his half-moon spectacles.

"Polyjuice?"

"Most likely. We'll know in an hour, at any rate."

"And you're sure it's him?"

Taking a deep breath, he handed Dumbledore the Marauder's Map. "There is the possibility that it's the father, but I rather doubt it."

The old man's eyes widened as he studied the magical map. "Where did you . . . ?" He trailed off as his eyes zeroed in on a particular name. "It says he's here in the room."

"Necessary, if it's Polyjuice. Mimicking the appearance of a corpse wouldn't serve his purpose."

Seemingly lost in thought, Dumbledore absentmindedly murmured, "No, I suppose not."

"When Albus lapsed into silence, Severus inspected the trunk. None of the seven locks would open with a simple spell, so he searched the desk drawers until he found a ring of seven keys. Fitting the proper key into the first lock, he opened the trunk to find it filled with spell books. A quick perusal, however, showed nothing of interest, and he locked it closed once more. The second key revealed several broken Sneakoscopes, a pile of snapped quills, and a shimmering invisibility cloak. Ignoring them, he tried the third key.

The contents of the third compartment were more illuminating. From bicorn horns to stewed lacewing flies, the trunk contained all the items necessary to brew Polyjuice Potion aside from Boomslang skin. No wonder the fake Moody had been upset at the state of his Potions stores.

The fourth compartment contained nothing but clothes, which didn't interest Snape in the least. The fifth was empty, as was the sixth. The seventh, however, opened into a deep pit. There, at the bottom, lay the real Alastor Moody."

"Albus, you might want to see this."

Standing next to his Potions Master, the Headmaster performed several diagnostic spells, though he made no move to free the unconscious wizard from his prison. "Stunned and Imperiused, but that seems to be the worst of it. I'd like to have a chat with our imposter before calling for Poppy."

"As you wish." Then, he held out his hand. "The map, if you don't mind."

The older wizard handed over the Marauder's Map with obvious reluctance. Snape pocketed it without comment. Then, they waited in the silence for almost half an hour before the captured wizard began to change. Moody's magical eye popped out of the pretender's head as it shrunk and transformed into the unmistakable shape of Barty Crouch, Jr.'s face.

"Shite." Severus hated being right.

Albus chuckled dryly at his Potions Master's uncharacteristic display of pique. "Now, Severus, think of this as an opportunity. We now know the identity of Tom's faithful servant at Hogwarts. Certainly, we can use this to our advantage."

"It would be far safer to kill him and be done with it."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled merrily. "Such a pessimist, my boy. You know this is our one chance to defeat him before he returns to full power. Fetch the strongest Truth Potion you have at the ready. As soon as we get some answers, we'll better know how to proceed."

As soon as he had exited the Defense classroom, Snape took off running. He respected Albus, he truly did, but he feared the old man might concoct some dangerous scheme to draw out Voldemort using Rose as bait. He'd done much the same the year prior when he'd thought he could use her to capture Black. He had no intention of allowing that to happen. Reaching the Fat Lady's portrait less than five minutes later, he gasped out the password given to the Heads of Houses. Heart racing, he stepped through the door to the Gryffindor Common Room to bark out an order.

"I need to see Rose Potter, now."

The dozen or so students who populated the Common Room stared at him in shock before a few of the more levelheaded witches raced up the stairs that led to the girls' dormitory. While he waited, Fred and George Weasley tried to convince him to sit, but he was too agitated to listen. If he didn't return with the Veritaserum soon, Dumbledore would grow suspicious.

"At least tell us what's wrong, Professor. Maybe we . . ."

". . . could help. You know . . ."

". . . we've been useful before."

Having dined with the Weasleys often during the summer, he hardly noticed the twins' habit of finishing the other's thoughts. He did, however, take their offer into consideration, although he quickly dismissed it. Molly would fillet him if he involved her children in something so perilous.

"Nothing is wrong. I merely need to have a word with Rose."

Before Fred and George could express their obvious skepticism, Rose bounded down the steps.

"Professor! What's wrong?"

As she ran towards him, he took a few steps forward to embrace her in a tight hug. Bending down, he whispered harshly in her ear.

"Do not ask questions, and do not allow anyone to follow you. Retrieve your Invisibility Cloak and wait in my quarters. I will be there shortly."

Releasing her, he turned on his heel to leave as abruptly as he had entered. As soon as the portrait had closed behind him, he sprinted to the stairs. His entrance into the Slytherin Common Room caused much less commotion, although it took precious seconds for Blaise Zabini to return with Draco and his dog. Not bothering to explain, he pulled the pajama clad teen towards the door, confident that the Animagus would follow.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of his quarters, however, both Rose and Draco bombarded him with questions.

"Professor, what's wrong? Why did you ask me to bring my Invisibility Cloak? Are you alright? You're flushed and sweating. Do you have a fever?"

"Why did you drag me out of the dorm in my pajamas? Has something happened to Mum?"

He scowled at the two as he sternly demanded quiet. He hated to be the cause of the fear in their eyes, but there was no time for lengthy explanations. His tone, therefore, sounded curter than he intended.

"Narcissa is fine. Rose, give me your Invisibility Cloak. Draco, I have need of your dog. Both of you are to stay in my quarters. Do not open the door for anyone, no exceptions. If I, or anyone else, attempt to gain entry through this door, you are both to Floo to Grimmauld Place where you will contact Narcissa. Do I make myself clear?"

Biting her lip, Rose nodded. By some miracle, she didn't voice a single question, although she immediately clutched her charm bracelet. Draco's pale face had gone even paler, but he, too, obeyed without question. The mutt cocked his head to the side to gaze quizzically at the edgy wizard, but Severus had already left. The wolfhound gave one last, worried glance at the two teens before trotting to catch up.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

In a disused dungeon hallway, Sirius transformed himself back into human form at Snape's request, concealing himself with James' old Invisibility Cloak. He had to jog to keep pace with the Potions Master, who ran towards the Defense classroom like (with no irony intended) a bat out of hell. As he finally slowed to climb the stairs to Moody's office, Black softly demanded answers.

"Just what the hell has happened to put you in such a state, Snape? Why the hell are we here?"

Pausing at the base of the steps, he checked the map to make sure they were truly alone. Only then did he trust himself to speak.

"Everything may not be as it seems, and it is imperitive you bear witness. You are not to reveal yourself unless the prisoner attempts to escape. No matter what the Headmaster or I might say or do, you are not to interfere. Do I make myself clear?"

"Prisoner? What prisoner?" Black threw off the hood of the Invisibility Cloak, which made him appear to be nothing more than a frowning floating head.

Gripping the vial of Veritaserum tightly in his hand, Severus finally allowed his own apprehension to show. He inhaled deeply to try to slow down his racing heart as he met his friend's troubled gaze.

"A Death Eater, Black. There's a Death Eater posing as Alastor Moody at Hogwarts."

A hand shot out from under the cloak to rest comfortingly on Snape's shoulder. "That bastard's not going to get his hands on her. We'll make sure of that."

"Yes," he agreed, bolstered by the wizard's confidence. "We will."

As he handed Albus the bottle of Veritaserum a few seconds later, he could only hope the Headmaster felt the same.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**Author's Notes** - Yes, we're definitely in AU territory now. It always bothered me in The Goblet of Fire that Crouch, Jr. had spent more than a decade in Azkaban, but successfully impersonated Alastor Moody for almost a year right under Dumbledore's nose. In this story, his antagonism towards Snape is a little too much for the Potions Master to take, resulting in his discovery much sooner. How Dumbledore intends to use that knowledge to his advantage, however, remains to be seen. It's apparent that even Severus doesn't trust him completely, which is why he wants Black to witness their conversation. The next chapter should be interesting, to say the least!

I am sorry that the update took closer to two weeks than one. Last weekend I celebrated my birthday, so needless to say, I spent time with my family rather than at the computer writing. And, this week was taken up with writing of a much more mundane kind-Christmas cards! So, thanks to everyone for their patience and I hope you enjoy the chapter!


	13. The Problem With Bait

For once, he was grateful for Narcissa's Charm. Albus ordered him to sit, the concern on his face impossible to hide. The Headmaster attributed the sheen of sweat on his skin and labored breathing to the lingering effects of Phoenix Flu, not racing to the seventh floor then down to the dungeons and back to the Defense classroom.

Watching Dumbledore administer the Veritaserum to Barty Crouch made his heart race for a much different reason. There weren't many people whom Severus feared, but the man who now sat magically bound to a plain wooden chair was close to the top of a very short list. Both he and Bellatrix Lestrange were true fanatics, unswervingly loyal to that monster Voldemort and all he espoused. Worse, Crouch's intelligence made him doubly treacherous. He'd served the Dark Lord while maintaining an impeccable cover as the dutiful son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. More impressively, he had somehow faked his death while in Azkaban; he was not to be underestimated.

"How did you escape Azkaban?"

The Headmaster's thoughts must have paralleled his own. Snape listened intently as Albus expertly interrogated the man. Crouch, Jr. revealed that his dying mother had switched places with him, thus allowing his father to secretly imprison him in the family home. He had spent a decade under the Imperius Curse, slowly fighting it until the night the Dark Lord and Pettigrew had appeared at the door. In fact, he had managed to throw off the curse long enough during the Quidditch World Cup to steal Draco's wand and terrify Death Eaters and general public alike by casting the Dark Mark. Now, though, it was Crouch, Sr. who lived under the Unforgivable Curse.

"And how did Voldemort learn of your father's secret?"

The bound wizard glared murderously at Dumbledore, his face coloring to match his freckles. With the Truth Potion, however, he was compelled to answer.

"Pettigrew found Bertha Jorkins in Albania. The Dark Lord could sense that she'd been Obliviated, so he ripped her mind apart to learn her secret. He never expected that secret to be me, but my devotion pleased him greatly."

His eyes suddenly bored into his former colleague. "Just as your treachery enraged him. Mark my words, Snape, he will make you suffer before you die, like I hope he makes all of the faithless cowards suffer! You betrayed him! Betrayed those who accepted you despite your questionable origins! You chose the daughter of that filthy Mudblood over your master! I hope he makes her beg for death in front of you before Cruciating you to the point of insanity! You don't deserve to live!"

Spittle flew from the deranged man's mouth, and Snape forcibly had to remind himself that Barty could only bluster. Bound as he was, there was no way he could summon the Dark Lord to make good on any of his threats. Even so, he had to fight the urge to kill the unhinged wizard where he sat.

Steely-eyed, Albus appeared remarkably unperturbed by the Death Eater's outburst. In a far too reasonable tone of voice he asked, "Speaking of Miss Potter, what are your master's plans for her?"

The wizard's face contorted into a rictus of pain as he fought the effects of the powerful Truth Potion. After struggling for a few seconds, however, the answer poured unwillingly from his mouth.

"Rose Potter is to be entered into the TriWizard Tournament. When she wins, the Cup will take her to my Master. He will use her blood to resurrect his body. Then, he will kill her so all will know that the Girl-Who-Lived was nothing more than the Girl-Who-Died."

The flash of exultation in Dumbledore's eyes extinguished so quickly that Snape questioned whether it had been a figment of his imagination. However, the Headmaster's stiffened posture indicated the importance of the next question.

"How will her blood be used?"

This time, Crouch answered more readily. The Potions Master had to fight the urge to hex the arrogant sneer off the prisoner's narrow face.

"Blood of an enemy, forcibly taken."

This time, the spark of triumph was unmistakable, although Snape could not fathom the reason. He knew of no spell or ritual to grant the foul shade a new body. He had hoped that with the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone such a thing had been rendered impossible. To discover that Rose's foolish bravery against Quirrel had been for naught brought the sour taste of acid to his throat.

"That Potion takes almost a year to brew. No wonder Tom is waiting."

Dumbledore spoke conversationally, as if he had engaged in a polite discussion rather than a forced interrogation. The younger Crouch strained against his bonds, his eyes alight with madness. Frowning, Severus wished he could ask the Headmaster how the hell he had knowledge of such an obviously Dark Potion. Dumbledore's specialty was Transfiguration, although the wizard who had discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood must have more than a little familiarity with Potions.

"How dare you speak of the Dark Lord in such a manner! Mark my words, he will destroy you all!"

The powerful wizard regretfully shook his head. "Such a waste. Severus, do you have any questions for our prisoner?"

His eyes snapped disbelievingly to the older wizard, who had just popped a sweet into his mouth. Of course he had questions. Steadying himself, he focused on Crouch.

"Do your instructions include harming Rose Potter in any manner before she is to be taken to the Dark Lord?"

"No."

"Is anyone else to harm her whilst she is at Hogwarts?"

"No."

Hardly comforting given Crouch's overall objective, but Severus did allow himself to relax just a bit. At least she was not currently an active target of Voldemort. He continued with a different line of questioning.

"How are you to report to the Dark Lord?"

Through his clenched jaw, the Death Eater ground out, "I'm not."

"Then, are you to report to someone else?"

"No."

Surprised by the answer, he rephrased the question so that there could be no mistake. "You have been given sole responsibility to ensure that Rose Potter be delivered to the Dark Lord?"

Again, he spit his answer out like it burned his tongue. "Yes."

"And, you are not to report your progress to anyone in any manner?"

"Correct."

Severus leaned back in the chair, astonished by the answer. If he hadn't brewed the Veritaserum himself, he might have doubted its efficacy. Briefly, he wondered what Black made of such a revelation before Occluding his mind and focusing on the task at hand.

"Then, how will he know of your progress?"

Struggling against the magical bindings, Crouch bit his tongue so hard that blood gushed from his mouth. Even that did not save him from answering, although his speech was difficult to understand.

"Da Daiwy Proppef."

Before he could follow with another question, Dumbledore stood, his eyes twinkling brightly with satisfaction. The Headmaster stemmed the blood pouring from Crouch's mouth with a wave of his wand. Then, he cast a Silencing Spell on the enraged wizard.

"We are indeed fortunate, Severus. Alastor can resume his duties and no one will be the wiser. So long as we ensure that Rose is entered in the TriWizard Tournament, Tom will think nothing amiss until far too late. The final task isn't scheduled until the twenty-fourth of June."

As the Headmaster spoke, Snape stared fixedly into Barty Crouch, Jr.'s eyes, discovering a level of malice he had rarely encountered. It reminded him of the killer instinct Remus Lupin unleashed when he transformed into a werewolf. Gripping his wand, he coldly stunned the Death Eater before turning towards the Headmaster.

"Have you so readily forgotten the dangers of the TriWizard Tournament, Albus? There is a reason participants must be of age. It would hardly benefit your cause if Rose were to die competing."

Growing unexpectedly somber, the powerful wizard peered intently at his Potions Master over his half-moon spectacles. Severus hated when he did that; he invariably felt like a schoolboy caught in a petty misdeed.

"Defeating Lord Voldemort was once your cause as well, my boy. Or have you forgotten the prophecy? Either must die at the hand of the other. . . ."

". . . .For neither can live while the other survives." He finished resignedly as he prayed that the old man hadn't heard the soft gasp coming from the far corner of the room. So much for Black bearing silent witness. "I think of the prophecy every day. Why do you think I've pushed Rose to learn so many spells? Given time, her power will rival that of the Dark Lord's."

"It is not her dueling skills which will defeat Tom, Severus. We have discussed this many times. It is the power he knows not which will prove to be his downfall."

"Surely you're not again spouting that ridiculous notion that love will defeat the Dark Lord, Albus? This isn't _Phantom of the Opera. _I doubt a kiss from a maiden will convince a Dark wizard like Voldemort to change his ways."

The infuriating old man had the gall to chuckle. "Severus, you never cease to amaze me. I never pictured you as a devotee of Muggle musicals."

"Do not attempt to change the topic." He spoke waspishly, half irritated that the Headmaster refused to see the danger and half embarrassed that he had been caught making the Muggle reference. "Entering Rose in the TriWizard Tournament would be foolish. She would be ill-prepared for such a challenge."

All traces of humor left the Headmaster's face. "Severus, you cannot argue both sides. You say you are training her to face Voldemort in a duel, and yet you tell me she is too unskilled to test her mettle in the TriWizard Tournament. While I can understand your desire to safeguard Miss Potter, I must remind you that you promised to do anything to redeem yourself. This is the best opportunity we shall have to defeat Tom before he returns to full strength. Don't you wish to avoid an all-out war?"

"I made a far more important Vow, Albus, a vow to Lily to protect her child. Unlike you, I do not believe that forcing Rose to compete in the TriWizard Tournament comes anywhere close to protecting her. As her guardian, I trust that I will have the final say in this matter."

The bearded wizard pulled off his spectacles to wearily rub his eyes. When he faced Severus again, the former spy tensed at the regret in his mentor's dampened blue orbs.

"You made that promise to me, my boy, not Lily. Lily Potter couldn't accept your Vow because the wizard to whom you had sworn allegiance killed her as she stood in front of him to save her child. I regret it has come to this, Severus, but please believe me when I say that I am doing my best to protect Rose. She will be entered into the TriWizard Tournament. You will not warn her beforehand. You will not contest her participation. You will encourage her to win. I assure you; it is for her own good."

The reminder of his betrayal of Lily wounded him. But, his mentor's use of it as emotional blackmail delivered a much harsher blow. Paling, he stared dazedly at the open trunk until he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder.

"I shouldn't have burdened you with this tonight, Severus. I forget that for all your resilience, you are still recovering from an illness that almost killed you. For that, I am sorry. You have done the wizarding world a great service. You should be proud, my boy."

"Proud?" he asked in a broken voice. "Do you know Rose's greatest wish, Headmaster? It isn't fame or glory, but the chance to be normal, something that will not happen if she is mysteriously chosen as the Hogwarts Champion. Have you thought of her fellow students' reactions, Albus? Do you think they will rally around your golden girl, or shun her as they did when she revealed her talent for Parseltongue?"

"Rose Potter has never been normal, Severus. You know—"

"All I know," he bitterly interrupted, "is that even with this plan of yours, there is no way to guarantee her safety. What if the Dark Lord changes his mind and takes Rose earlier? What if he sends Pettigrew to Hogwarts? The rat will know Crouch has been captured. Your plan is riddled with suppositions, and you've put your trust in the words of a madman. How the hell do you expect me to take comfort in that?"

The pressure on his shoulder increased. Looking up, he saw Albus' eyes rimmed with tears. Not trusting his own thoughts at the moment, he quickly looked away.

"I wish I could assure you, my boy, but you know I cannot. There is always an element of risk, which you have rightly voiced. However, the possible reward in this instance is simply too great to dismiss. Rose deserves the chance at a normal life, but such a dream will forever be denied her while Voldemort hunts in the shadows. Trust me, Severus, participating in the TriWizard Tournament is her best chance of defeating Tom once and for all."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. The old man had made up his mind. He could rant, rave, throw a tantrum like an overtired toddler, threaten, cajole and flat out scream, but he knew from bitter experience that Albus Dumbledore would not be swayed. One way or the other, Rose Potter would be entered in the TriWizard Tournament. She would compete. Somehow, she would win. The afterwards, however, would be anyone's guess.

"If she so much as suffers a paper cut, Albus, I'm holding you responsible."

His disgruntled protest brought a sad smile to the Headmaster's face. As usual, the bespectacled wizard was gracious in his victory. "I know, my boy, and I thank you for your cooperation. Rose's participation in the Tournament will buy us valuable time, time which will be well spent. He will finally be vanquished, Severus. I'm certain of it."

"I can only hope you're right." Resigned, he wearily gestured to Crouch's unconscious form. "How can I be of assistance?"

Unsurprisingly, the older man refused his offer of help.

"I'll take care of this, Severus. You need your rest. I don't think Alastor will be ready to teach tomorrow. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to cover his classes."

"Of course. I'll leave you to it, then."

He walked out of the room and quickly closed the door behind him—deliberately too quickly for Black to follow. Sirius would be able to provide invaluable information on Dumbledore's treatment of both Moody and Crouch. The Potions Master suspected his mentor had once again kept vital information secret. Something about the Dark Lord's plans had piqued the wizard's interest, but what?

As he walked down the stairs to the Defense classroom, he tried to come up with a plausible excuse for Rose and Draco, but his thoughts were simply too disorganized. He finally came to the untenable conclusion that he would have to share some version of the truth. Knowing what would happen if he attempted to enter his quarters through the door, he made a detour to the History of Magic classroom.

Binns slept soundly in his chair; or more likely, the ghost gave a good impression of sleeping. Snape walked past without comment, searching for the hidden doorway that led to the instructor's former apartments. Predictably, it had been hidden as a bookshelf, and with a little pressure, the entire section of wall opened up to reveal a cobweb covered archway. Closing the hidden door behind him, he quickly found the disused fireplace.

Soot stained the entire firebox black while piles of ash spilled over the grate. Severus idly wondered if it had been cleaned since Binns' death as he searched for a bowl of Floo powder on the dusty wooden mantel. He eventually found it in a covered Chinese vase on a nearby table. Taking a handful, he threw it into the cold hearth. Brilliant green flames burst into existence, and he wasted no time announcing his destination.

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Stumbling out of his own hearth, he dusted off his robes only to find a wand pressed painfully against his neck. Draco and Rose looked on nervously from several feet away.

"What is the last request you made of me before you left for Hogwarts?"

"That you take a flat in London rather than return to Malfoy Manor."

The witch standing behind him took her wand away from his neck. Spinning to face her, he aimed his wand directly at her chest. Although she looked and acted like his beloved, he refused to let his guard down.

"And, what was your response?"

The proud widow glanced uneasily at the teens standing behind him, and he wanted nothing more than to take his question back. When she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, he didn't push her away.

"I said that I would gladly live in a hovel so long as it was with you. Otherwise, I would return to Malfoy Manor until my son comes of age."

"Narcissa, I apologize. I did not mean—"

She pressed her finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. Her eyes swept his body, from his sweat-dampened, lank hair to the scuffs on the toes of his black boots. Taking her finger away, she nodded to herself, as if in answer to a very important question, and then her manner became brisk and businesslike.

"Sit down, Severus. You look like you could use a drink."

He sat. Narcissa wordlessly handed her traveling cloak to Rose. She then ordered Draco to find napkins, cups and saucers and a tin of biscuits. Before Snape could mention that there were no biscuits to be found, she placed a glass of Firewhiskey in front of him and then performed a Heating Charm on the water in the kettle.

As he stared dully at the amber liquid in front of him, Crouch's interrogation again played in his mind. The Dark Lord intended to resurrect his body using Rose's blood. Rose's blood . . . . Fucking hell! He planned to take away Lily's blood protection by using Rose's blood to give life to his new body. Voldemort would be able to touch her. She would not be able to defeat him as she had Quirrell. But, why would it matter? If the Dark Lord planned on killing her immediately, why would he care if he could touch her? Unless . . . unless he wished to use her for something before he killed her.

"Drink it before you faint."

He thought it excellent advice. His thoughts had taken such a sickening turn that he needed the alcohol as a distraction if nothing else. Drinking down the potent spirit, he felt the familiar burn down his throat and then a burst of soothing warmth which spread throughout his body.

"Are you alright, Professor? Do you need to have a lie down? What happened? Are you hurt?"

He smiled tiredly at Rose's concern. If he had taken the time to notice, he would have seen the same anxiety in Draco's expression, but his skills in observation had been overtaxed by Barty's interrogation.

"I am uninjured, Rose."

"But something happened to give him quite a shock. Give him a moment to compose himself, Rose. If we were in any immediate danger, Severus wouldn't be sitting at the table."

Narcissa's blunt observation only made the two teens more anxious. Draco appeared especially agitated, and he belatedly realized the boy must be wondering about Sirius' absence. Still, he did as the witch had suggested and took a moment to compose himself. She was correct; they were in no immediate danger.

He watched as she calmly poured the boiling water over the tea leaves in his chipped porcelain teapot, idly wondering if she had ever done so before. The Blacks and Malfoys prided themselves on using house-elves for menial labor. However, the regal blonde appeared to be quite at home in his cramped kitchen. She took his empty glass without asking and replaced it with a cup of strong, hot tea. Then, she proceeded to pour a generous amount of milk into Draco's half-filled cup. While she had to ask Rose how she liked her Earl Gray, Narcissa prepared hers as well before pouring the last cup and primly stirring in a lump of sugar. Taking a small sip, she gazed at him expectantly.

He could think of no way in which to soften the blow. Wrapping his hands around the teacup for added warmth, he straightened in his seat.

"I discovered that a Death Eater had infiltrated Hogwarts. He had been using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Alastor Moody. At the time, I couldn't be sure that he was the only one. So, I ordered Rose and Draco to my quarters as a precaution. Draco, your dog is currently guarding the prisoner. The Headmaster has not decided what to do with him as yet."

Narcissa studied her teacup, though not before giving him a skeptical glance. He had left enough unsaid for her to know that there was much more to the story. As the two teens erupted with questions, she searched for the nonexistent biscuits.

"What Death Eater? Won't he be sent to Azkaban? How long has he been impersonating Moody? Since school began? Before? Why'd he come here? Does it have something to do with Voldemort?"

Narcissa sniffed audibly in disgust at the young witch's choice of words. She had spent too much time as a Death Eater's wife to be comfortable with that name. Remarkably, Rose seemed to understand.

"Sorry, Cissy. It makes sense, though, doesn't it? That this all has something to do with You-Know-Who? I mean, it can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"It is no coincidence," Severus admitted gravely. The wizard impersonating Moody had orders to deliver you to the Dark Lord."

Draco spilled his tea much like Neville Longbottom had just that afternoon. Merlin, but it had been a very long day. The hot liquid poured over the edge of the table onto the Slytherin's lap, causing the boy to jump out of his seat. Narcissa performed a quick, "_Scourigfy_," without pausing her search of the pantry.

Rose had gone very quiet, although he could hear the faint tinkle of silver as she fingered her charm bracelet. Finally, she said with a strained nonchalance, "Well, I guess it's lucky you found him out, then, Professor."

"Indeed," he solemnly agreed, wishing he could warn her of the trials yet to come. He took little comfort in Crouch's capture while Albus plotted towards his own ends. Still, it could be much worse. The rabid fanatic could have already taken Rose.

"I trust I don't have to tell the two of you to keep this to yourselves."

"Keep what to ourselves?" Draco asked sarcastically. "You haven't even told us who Polyjuiced themselves into Professor Moody. Besides, won't everyone know by the morning? I mean, a Death Eater posing as a teacher at Hogwarts isn't exactly the type of news one can hide."

"Which is why Professor Dumbledore has no intention of turning the man over to the Aurors. Or am I wrong, Severus? Please, tell me I'm wrong."

He couldn't, and as soon as he made eye contact with her, she understood. Rose, however, could not reconcile her perception of the Headmaster with his patently illegal actions.

"But . . . ." She paused, as if trying to work something out. Severus bit the inside of his cheek as he watched a parade of emotions march across her face. Confusion, denial, anger, and then, a terrible look of betrayal before her chin jutted out in defiance.

"It's a trick, isn't it, sir? Professor Dumbledore is going to trick him to come here."

"He believes this is the best chance to defeat the Dark Lord before he can return to power."

Just a bloody minute! He can't use you as bait, Rose! We'll tell the Ministry ourselves! We—"

"Shut it, Malfoy! I don't need you treating me like some damsel in distress! I want to hear what Dad thinks! He knows Professor Dumbledore a lot better than you ever will!" As all eyes snapped to her, she added somberly, "Voldemort, too, I imagine."

"What do you wish to know?" In this one instance, he knew better than to assume anything.

"Do you agree with the Headmaster's plan?"

Her question was the crux of his dilemma. How much did he trust Albus Dumbledore? It wasn't that he didn't think the aged wizard could succeed. He simply didn't know what price his mentor might be willing to pay to bring down the Dark Lord once and for all.

"I admit I have my reservations. However, in fairness to the Headmaster, I believe he has a reasonable chance of success. Though I do not know how costly such a scheme might prove to be. The Dark Lord's death would be a hollow victory indeed if you are not there to see it, Rose."

When he saw strong-willed determination hardening those beautiful emerald eyes, he felt his heart constrict in his chest. This was not the path he would have chosen for her. She had completely ignored his doubts, focusing solely on the desired outcome. Healer Wellby's words came back at that moment to haunt him. She truly was primed to be a martyr. If she died because of it, he would kill the old man himself.

"Rose, I . . . ." Standing, he imploringly looked to Narcissa.

Coming to stand beside him, she unreservedly pulled the young witch into a hug, a gesture which Rose unabashedly returned. They clung tightly together for almost a minute, and he had to resist the urge to embrace them both.

"There is another way."

Green eyes met blue, wary with disbelief, but Severus counted it a victory. Perhaps Rose would listen to the reasoning of a woman.

"How?"

"You could spend a year or two studying abroad. There's no reason to deliberately subject yourself to the Dark Lord's attentions. Although he doesn't like to acknowledge it, Severus is a renowned Potions Master. You could have your pick of schools and return in a few years when Dumbledore has vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for good. Leave the scheming to the Headmaster for once. I assure you, he is more than capable."

Biting her bottom lip much like her friend Hermione Granger, Rose fiddled mindlessly with her charm bracelet. Severus took this as a hopeful sign of indecision. Narcissa used her hesitation to sweeten the offer.

"Draco and I could accompany you and Severus. My son is free to live where he likes until he comes of age. A year or two living oversees would do him worlds of good. And, you could have a friendly face in your classes."

Despairingly, Severus saw Rose stiffen at the phrase 'friendly face'. He knew exactly what she would say, and was therefore unsurprised when his ward deliberately stepped away from the older witch.

"I'm sorry, Cissy, but I can't. I know you mean well, but I can't just go away someplace safe while the rest of my friends are in danger because of something I could prevent. This is my home, and I won't let Voldemort take that away from me like he's taken so much else. I won't."

Stupid, foolish, brave, bloody Gryffindor. He couldn't have been prouder of her at that moment even as her answer threatened to bring tears to his eyes. Of course she wouldn't abandon her home or her friends. Such loyalty was her greatest strength and utmost weakness. She truly was Lily's daughter—and damn it, Potter's, too.

"Professor! Mother is right. You can't possibly let her stay. It would be suicide!"

Immediately, her hands balled into fists, and Severus wanted to warn the boy that he stood on a crumbling precipice.

"Thanks for that, Malfoy. I suppose I know how little confidence you have in me now."

"Confidence?" he drawled in his most haughty tone. "The only thing you can be confident about, Potter, is that the Dark Lord has years more experience than you. You can't possibly believe you're powerful enough to beat him."

Raw anger reddened her face as she pulled out her wand. "Oh yeah? And, who do you think beat him twice before? Hagrid? You don't know anything, Draco! I'm the only one who can!"

The teen's fair skin blanched white. Crossing the small space, he gripped her shoulders as if he could will her to understand. Severus had the uncomfortable feeling of being a voyeur in the face of such raw emotion. Glancing at Narcissa, he knew she felt much the same.

"Leave with me, Rose, please. I'll renounce my inheritance. We can go away, far enough away that no one gives that scar of yours a second look, wherever you like. You can live a normal life. We both can."

He watched as her anger drained away. Draco noticed too, and a hopeful smile stole over his face. But the smitten boy didn't see the determination still shining in her eyes.

"I'd like that, Draco. You can't begin to believe how much I'd like that. But, I can't leave. It would feel too much like running away. And, if I do that, he's won already."

The Malfoy heir's entire body went rigid as if her words had Petrified him. Then, he dropped his hands from her arms and coolly walked towards the door. In a voice as cold as Lucius' had ever been, he said, "Do you know the problem with bait, Potter? It gets eaten. So, don't expect me to cry over your dead body. You've made your choice, and it isn't me."

The door closed behind him with a soft snick. As Rose stared blankly at the dark wood, a cold chill sank in Snape's gut. Malfoy's words had sounded forebodingly like an epitaph. He would do everything he could to prove the angry young man wrong.

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**Author's Notes** - Happy New Year! I took a few weeks to enjoy the holidays with my family, but as the kiddos are back in school, I'm looking forward to catching up on my writing and posting. Hope you enjoy the chapter!


	14. Gits and Flobberworms

_The Malfoy heir's entire body went rigid as if her words had Petrified him. Then, he dropped his hands from her arms and coolly walked towards the door. In a voice as cold as Lucius' had ever been, he said, "Do you know the problem with bait, Potter? It's meant to be eaten. So, don't expect me to cry over your dead body. You've made your choice, and it isn't me."_

_The door closed behind him with a soft snick. As Rose stared blankly at the dark wood, a cold chill sank in Snape's gut. Malfoy's words had sounded forebodingly like an epitaph. He would do everything he could to prove the boy wrong._

When Rose finally realized that Draco wasn't coming back, she desperately turned to Narcissa. "He doesn't understand! I don't want him giving up everything for me! Draco doesn't know how to be normal! He'd hate it! He'd hate me! I'm doing this for him as much as anyone else! Why can't he understand that?"

She answered in a subdued voice, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Rose, you're wrong in that. I think my son understands all too well."

With a strangled sob, the young witch flung open the door and sprinted down the dim corridor. Snape would have run after her, but Narcissa held him back.

"Don't. She needs to have a good cry with her friends. They'll tell her what an arse my son has been, and she'll defend him for a while, but eventually she'll stop. She'll be fine, at least about this." Staring at her forgotten tea, she added contemplatively, "I wish I could do more. It takes a long time to heal a broken heart."

"You think her heartbroken? I know she cared for him, but they are both so young."

"I wasn't speaking of Rose, Severus."

Of course she wasn't. Her son had just offered to give up his birthright and been summarily rejected. It didn't matter that Rose hadn't meant to reject him as well as his proposal. It must seem so to the proud, young wizard. Snape wanted to scoff and dismiss it as nothing more than teenage drama, but he couldn't in the face of his own experience with Lily. Besides, he had seen the fear underneath Draco's anger even if Rose had not.

"I'm sorry."

"I am too," she said sadly. "But you're right. They're young yet. And, we have more pressing matters to discuss. You deliberately did not name the Death Eater. I can only assume there is a reason."

"Forgive me; Rose and Draco would not have understood the significance, and I wished to deny reality for as long as possible. I'm afraid Barty Crouch, Jr. is not as dead as everyone thinks."

"Explain."

He did. His account took longer than Crouch's interrogation as he described how he had become suspicious of the imposter in the first place. She asked no questions, although by the end, her expression had hardened so much that her appearance mirrored that of a statue of Titiana, the mythological queen of the faeries—beautiful, ice cold and deadly.

"How arrogant can the old fool be? Crouch should be Kissed. If he could throw off the Imperius once, he can do so again. If Dumbledore's supposition is correct, then he is of no more use."

"The Headmaster does not kill in cold blood, Narcissa. It is one of the cornerstones of his beliefs."

"Is the other using a child to fight his battles? Honestly, Severus, haven't you considered simply leaving with Rose? She's not bound to Hogwarts and neither are you."

Taking her in his arms, he rested his head on her shoulder. Her long, silken hair smelled faintly of violets, and the sweet smell of jasmine clung to her neck. It reminded him of spring and the hope of new beginnings. How he wished he could inhale that heady scent and agree.

As Rose's guardian he could spirit her away against her protests. She might hate him, but finding a safe haven would be worth her scorn. Perhaps, she would forgive him—eventually. He had, in fact, considered moving to a boarding school in Canada several times. But he might as well wish to take her to Valhalla or Shangri-La or Avalon itself, for the Dark Lord would never allow her to live a life of peace and obscurity.

No, the damn prophecy precluded that. Obsessed with immortality, Voldemort would not be able to accept his potential bane living unmolested on another continent. He would hunt her down with the tenacity of a hound hunting a fox. No one understood that better than he.

Still, he allowed himself to dream of the fantasy as he leaned against the woman he loved. For all the years he'd held Lily's memory so tightly in his heart, he'd kept his burdens to himself. It was a relief now to be able to share them with another. He hoped Narcissa felt the same. Just the simple act of conversing with her eased some of the tension in his neck. While it had been mere months since he had declared his feelings openly, she had become a true partner and an integral part of his life. Gathering strength from her embrace, he brushed his lips against hers before finally answering.

"Nor is the Dark Lord so bound, Narcissa. It matters little where Rose resides when he would pursue her to the ends of the Earth. At least here she is among friends and can count on the protection of one of the world's most powerful wizards. I cannot believe Albus wishes her harm. Though, you are right. I will not allow him to use her as a pawn on a chessboard."

"Perhaps not, but you put far too much faith in that man, Severus. If he is so powerful, why did he not challenge the Dark Lord to a duel? It is how he defeated Grindlewald, is it not?

"That was fifty years ago."

"And his strength and influence have only grown."

He found himself in the awkward position of defending his mentor to his lover. Many of the points Narcissa subsequently raised mirrored his own doubts. However, when she voiced them, it was all too easy to explain them away. Of course Dumbledore kept things from him. He was a spy, his risk of capture all too real. The Headmaster couldn't afford to trust him with such valuable information. He had been attracted to the Dark Arts at a very young age. Albus was right to shield him from new temptations. No matter how much he argued, however, the witch wouldn't budge in her opinions.

"I love you dearly, Severus Snape, but your regard for that man blinds you to his faults."

A spark of ire flared at her accusation only to be doused by the loyalty and protectiveness shining from her eyes. He knew Albus could be a cold, manipulative bastard all in the name of the greater good. He'd seen the powerful wizard influence the Ministry, not to mention the Hogwarts staff, again and again. Hadn't Dumbledore used his guilt against him that very night? Perhaps she was right; perhaps he allowed his feelings for the old man to blind him to the truth.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he entwined his fingers with hers. "Then, I am indeed fortunate that I have you to tell me so. I couldn't ask for a fiercer advocate, Narcissa. Thank you."

His comment unbalanced her for a moment. He didn't think she had expected him to agree. Quickly, though, she regained her equilibrium and answered with a small smile of her own.

"So long as you listen, Severus, you're welcome."

"I promise. Unfortunately, even with his faults, he is still the best hope for Rose at the moment."

"Of course," she agreed without hesitation. "I merely ask you to question his methods before committing to them. In his own way, he is as much of a fanatic as Barty Crouch."

"To that end, I hope Sirius returns with some useful information."

"How long before you think he will return?"

"I've no idea." Just then a yawn overcame him. Ruefully, he added, "Long enough to ensure a missed night's sleep. I shall need an Invigoration Draught before the Dueling Club tomorrow."

"Dueling Club?"

Settling with her on the couch, Severus spent the next few hours chatting with Narcissa about their respective weeks. She had not been idle. Instead, she had spent much of the week with her solicitor securing her position as Lucius' successor to the various boards upon which her husband had had a seat. In fact, confirmation of her position on the Hogwarts Board of Governor's had come through that very day.

Severus wondered if Albus knew or if the information was just another tidbit he intended to keep for himself. Although he and Narcissa had made no secret of their relationship, the Headmaster could be strangely obtuse about his Potion Master's personal life. Even now, he suspected Albus believed his guardianship of Rose stemmed more from guilt than affection.

By the time Sirius knocked quietly on the door just before dawn, Narcissa slept soundly against his chest. Carefully shifting her to the opposite side of the sofa, he let the Marauder inside once he had confirmed his identity. Tight-lipped, Black shoved the Invisibility Cloak towards Severus before noticing the bottle of Firewhiskey near the sink. He immediately poured himself a generous drink and downed it in a few swallows.

"You're lucky you left with your memory intact, Snape. Moody sure as hell didn't. He's in the Hospital Wing recovering from a supposed nasty fall. You should see the bump on his head."

If the glassware the Potions Master owned had been fine crystal, the tumbler in Sirius' hand would have cracked under his tight grip. Still, Snape pried the cheap highball out of his friend's fingers just in case. He'd never seen the other man quite so angry, except when discussing Peter Pettigrew. He had the same manic sheen to his gaze as well, which put Severus on alert.

"We both know Albus is not above using Obliviation. I am more interested in what happened to Crouch."

"Barmy Barty? Oh, he's Stunned and locked in the trunk, which now sits in the Headmaster's office. I swear Fawkes could see me, but thankfully Dumbledore was too busy playing God to notice."

Picking up the tumbler off the counter, he poured another inch or two of the potent whiskey and downed it with a grimace.

"Fuck a dragon, Snape!" How the bloody hell do you stand it? He's mad as a bag of ferrets or as calculating as a sphinx. I can't tell anymore. Leastways, he's an unscrupulous bastard to use Lily's death against you like that."

An irate voice rose from the sofa. "Like what?"

Stunned, Black looked over to see his cousin watching them with a dangerous expression on her face. Taken aback, he picked up the Firewhiskey and took a chug directly from the bottle.

"Cissy! I didn't see you over there."

"Obviously." Rising, she crossed the space to stand between the two men. Before either one could protest, she poured the rest of the alcohol down the sink. "Now," she said in a sugary sweet voice, "I think you both should tell me why the Headmaster saw fit to drag a dead woman into tonight's discussion. Just what haven't you told me, Severus?"

Snape glared at Black, who sheepishly looked to the ground. Knowing he'd get no aid from that quarter, he braced himself for an assault.

"Barty had orders to enter Rose into the TriWizard Tournament. Dumbledore plans to do the same to fool the Dark Lord into believing nothing is amiss. According to Albus, the base for the Potion to resurrect his body takes almost a year to brew. He believes such a course of action will give him time to track down the Dark Lord and defeat him once and for all."

Feeling intensely uncomfortable, he reluctantly added, "I objected rather strenuously to the plan, but as the Headmaster so readily pointed out, my Unbreakable Vow to protect Rose was made to him, not Lily, since the dead cannot accept such oaths. He commanded that I not tell Rose of what is to come, nor object to her participation in the Tournament. Should I go against him, I hazard breaking the Vow. He sincerely believes taking such a risk might forever rid her of the danger the Dark Lord poses. My hands are tied."

"Draco was right. He will use her as bait, and you will allow it. And, if Dumbledore fails, Severus? What then?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I truly do not know."

He waited for her condemnation, but she wrapped her arms around him to rest her head against his chest.

"You poor fool of a man. When will you learn to put faith in yourself rather than others? He has you trapped as securely as the Dark Lord ever did. You must find a way to tell Rose. Or he most certainly will use it against you."

Incredibly, the mutt started to laugh. "I think he already has, Cissy. Merlin, Snape, but you truly are a step ahead of everyone, aren't you?"

Black! How could he have been so thick? Black could tell Rose whatever he wished. Although that wasn't the reason he'd originally wanted the Marauder as a witness, it was certainly a happy accident. For the first time since seeing Crouch's name on that blasted map, Severus thought he might just have the upper hand.

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Chasing down an Invigoration Draught with a cup of coffee, the exhausted Potions Master studied his busy schedule. He had two Defense Against the Dark Arts classes to teach that morning. Unfortunately, he would be forced to cover the subject of Unforgivables in the N.E.W.T. level class. Worse, he had Double Potions in the afternoon with the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. While the class would normally be one of his favorites, he wasn't keen to see how Rose and Draco would react to each other in such close proximity to volatile Potions ingredients. He truly didn't need the drama.

The first meeting of the Dueling Club had been scheduled for late that afternoon, and he had no idea how many students to expect. He'd told the House Elves to prepare for twenty, but he had a strong suspicion the number might be closer to fifty. He'd be anxious about such a large turnout, except Filius had offered to assist. Perhaps when Moody returned to his duties, he would offer to help as well.

He was debating the merits of eating breakfast in the Great Hall when there was a knock at the door. With a flick of his wand, he spelled it open. Only Rose used that ridiculous rhythm to announce her presence. Taking in her drawn face, he quickly summoned a house-elf to bring them a tray.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Did you?"

He smiled as he gestured for her to sit. "Touché. I am pleased you came. There are some things I would like to discuss with you in private."

"I'm here to make sure you eat something, Dad."

He had to bite back a smile. So, she was back to calling him Dad. She must be feeling very protective at that moment. He couldn't blame her. While Narcissa had removed the Charms early that morning, he could see little difference in his appearance. It would take several days of rest to overcome the shock of the previous night, and he simply didn't have the time.

"After last night, I could eat a Hippogriff."

"You could have died!"

He ruffled her unruly hair. "Hardly. The Marauder's Map alerted me to the danger, and I had the imposter subdued before he knew what was happening."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

Taking the time to study her face, he noticed the telltale signs of prolonged crying. Before he could comment on it, the house-elf had returned with a huge breakfast platter. They spent the next twenty minutes eating in relative silence. Rose's coloring improved after she devoured six sausages, three pieces of toast and two hardboiled eggs. He truly didn't know how someone so tiny could put away so much food, but he was glad to see her eating after the previous night's ordeal. She must have been watching him as well, for when he finished his plate of scrambled eggs, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes and beans, she had the audacity to applaud.

"I never thought I'd see you eat like that again!"

"With two Defense classes and Double Potions, I doubt I'll have time to eat lunch."

He'd mentioned her Potions class intentionally. Her cheery mood instantly evaporated, and she began to wring her hands.

"About that. I was wondering if you might let me miss it today? I could make up the lesson tomorrow. You know I brewed loads of antidotes this summer."

"Rose, you cannot avoid Draco forever."

"He's a selfish git."

When he didn't respond, she huffily crossed her arms. "Well, he is! How else could he expect me to abandon my friends and run away with him?"

He arched an eyebrow. "There is no reason to become testy. I don't believe I defended him. I merely said you can't avoid him forever."

"I hate boys."

"Be that as it may, you can't avoid an entire gender unless you wish to hide yourself away in a convent. You shall be on time for my class or I will deduct points."

She sulked silently as he drank the rest of his coffee. Suspecting she had more on her mind, he waited for her to speak.

"Draco's a git and Ron's a pig-headed arse."

"Language, young lady."

"I don't care. If I could, I'd turn them both into newts. Lavender decided on her own this morning to tell Ron all about Draco. Care to know what he said?" (He truly didn't, but this was one of those times when he knew better than to express his opinion.) "He said I should have known that Draco was good for nothing a long time ago and that he'd probably just been pretending to like me so you would like him. He's a—"

"Pig-headed arse. Yes, I see what you mean. Although, I'm sure somewhere in that brain of his, his commisery sounded much better than it actually did. I hope Miss Granger expressed her sympathy more appropriately."

"She said . . . uh, she said that Draco was probably scared of me being killed, and that he has a tendency to hide his concern behind anger. But that he's still a git for running away."

Wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could be mistaken, but I seem to recall telling you not to breathe a word about the captured Death Eater or the Headmaster's plans for him. Please tell me that Lavender Brown was not privy to the conversation when you explained to Miss Granger exactly why Mr. Malfoy feared for your life."

Silver charms flew in all directions as Rose finally yanked her bracelet hard enough to unravel the Anti-Breaking Charm he had placed upon it. "No, Dad! I wouldn't do something that stupid. We were alone in the lavatory. I made sure of it. Hermione had waited up for me all that time, you see, and I was too upset to make up a convincing story. She won't say a word, even to Ron. I swear!"

"_Accio_ charms." The tiny treasures flew into his hand, and Rose gravely placed the broken chain on the table. "Don't swear. It is a dangerous habit in the wizarding world. You will attend class this afternoon, and you will meet me in the Great Hall afterwards for the Dueling Club. Failure to do so will result in detention."

"Yes, sir," she muttered, her arms still crossed defensively over her chest as she slouched in the chair.

All of a sudden, he couldn't stomach her bad temper. "Come here, Rose."

Warily, she did, and he took the opportunity to give her a hug. For a moment, she didn't react, and then her grip tightened around him.

"Take it from me, even the biggest gits mature eventually. Besides, anyone who can face the Dark Lord can face two teenage boys. They're hardly basilisks."

Her lips twitched. "More like flobberworms."

"Precisely." Releasing her, he tapped his wand on the broken bracelet and watched in satisfaction as it swiftly repaired itself. She held out her right hand and he fastened the clasp around her wrist.

"The maturity of adolescent males aside, I'm glad you came to see me. I wish to assure you that you are in no greater danger than you have ever been. The Death Eater is currently locked in a trunk inside the Headmaster's office. Voldemort does not know he has been captured, or that the real Alastor has taken his rightful place at Hogwarts. You are safer now than you were the day before."

She stared at the tiny golden rose on her bracelet. "I know. I just . . . it's hard to explain. But, Professor Dumbledore's told me a few times that it's our actions which define us, and I don't understand his actions anymore. I mean, not really. Isn't he the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? Doesn't that mean he has to turn over the imposter to the Aurors? I don't know what's right anymore."

He almost said that he didn't either, but she was still enough of a child to expect reassurance rather than the brutal truth. After a moment's consideration, he admitted, "There are times when right does not necessarily mean legal, Rose. The Headmaster must weigh his responsibility to protect this school against his responsibility to turn a fugitive over to the Aurors. Currently, the imposter is locked up where he can do no harm. However, should he be sent to Azkaban, the Dark Lord would surely know that his strategy had failed. He would therefore devise another plan, one that might prove more successful."

Her left hand went towards her charm bracelet, but stopped before she could tug on it. "But, how does he know when it's alright to ignore the law? At what point does doing something noble turn into an abuse of power?"

Gravely, he replied, "That, Rose, is the dilemma with which every witch and wizard must struggle, student and Headmaster alike."

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Rose walked into the Potions classroom with Hermione Granger seconds before the bell rang. Draco, who had been one of the first to arrive, didn't look up as she walked past. Crabbed and Goyle, however, sniggered nastily at both girls as they took their place in the back of the room. Ronald Weasley, who had partnered with Seamus Finnegan, silenced the two idiots by asking out loud if they fancied Miss Granger, which enraged Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

The tension in the classroom rivaled that of the year prior when the two Houses were embroiled in a nasty feud. Ironically, that feud had started over Mr. Malfoy's treatment of Miss Potter, and he had no desire to endure a repeat of the same. His instructions, therefore, were stringent and to the point.

"There will be no foolishness tolerated in this class. The instructions for the Deflating Draught are on the board. One person at each cauldron shall retrieve the necessary ingredients from the Potions stores. I advise you to pay particular attention to the stirring guidelines, as I will be testing your potions against a Swelling Solution. Do not tempt me to test the Swelling Solution on your hand. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

Time dragged. He answered several questions from individuals who had not correctly read the instructions. He kept a discreet watch over certain students' cauldrons, including Rose and Draco's. And to his mortal shame, he nodded off while reading a first year's essay.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes. One moment, he remembered reading the tedious essay, and the next, he'd snapped awake as his chin had dropped to his chest straining the back of his neck. Rose and Draco stood anxiously on opposite sides of his desk while the rest of the class tried to pretend they weren't watching.

"Are you alright? I saw your head bobbing a few times, but I couldn't get your attention. Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing. I wouldn't want you to have a relapse."

Draco sneered. "That's rich coming from you, Potter. If you were concerned for his health, you wouldn't be here. Or could you possibly be so thick as to think that you're the only one being used?"

He was going to kill the mutt. Sirius must have told his young cousin everything. Rose stared at the teen in angry bewilderment, and he knew he was seconds away from the two forgetting where they were.

"Enough, Mr. Malfoy. This is neither the time nor the place to air your grievances with Miss Potter. I suggest you return to your cauldron and attempt to undo the mess Mr. Nott has made of your work by adding puffer fish liver before the dried shrinking violets."

"I already have a month's worth of detention. Remember, sir?

Bloody hell! Would the day never end? The last thing he wanted to do after dinner was find some busywork for Draco. While he needed to have a long chat with the boy, he didn't trust himself to have a rational discussion in the face of his sleep-deprived temper.

"I am postponing your detention until Monday."

A muffled gasp came from the front row. He glared balefully at Daphne Greengrass, who hastily returned her eyes to her cauldron.

His uncharacteristic behavior only convinced Rose that something was terribly wrong. Unthinkingly, she put her hand against his cheek. "Are you sure you're alright, Dad? You feel flushed."

"Potter, you're in the middle of class, you moron!"

Snape froze knowing every eye was upon them. Draco's hissed warning had alerted the few students who hadn't been watching them that something momentous had occurred. Even though Rose removed her hand as quickly as if she'd burnt it, she couldn't take back what she'd said. Her eyes widened with realization and then, incredibly, she smiled. However, the defiance he saw in her grin reminded him of James at his arrogant worst.

"So? He's a better father than yours ever was, Malfoy. I'll call him what I want."

He'd never seen the blond's face turn quite so scarlet. When the teen pulled out his wand, Severus clamped down on his wrist before he could do something stupid.

"Go back to your dorm, Mr. Malfoy, and don't leave until it is time for dinner! I will not have you losing your temper like you did earlier this week. Insults are not to be answered with hexes no matter how well deserved!"

Glowering at Rose one final time, Draco stalked out of the classroom, his posture unrepentant. The Potions Master could only hope Sirius could calm him before he retaliated in a way Rose was certain never to forgive.

Once the sound of Draco's boots had faded in the hallway, Severus turned to his ward. While the defiance was still visible in the set of her chin, the smile had been wiped completely off her face.

"Miss Potter, the same goes for you. Return to your dorm until dinner time. What you said to Mr. Malfoy was inappropriate and inexcusable. Twenty points from Gryffindor for the blatant disrespect you displayed towards a fellow student."

In an undertone, he added, "I am sorely disappointed in you, Rose. I know you are upset with Draco, but I never thought you cruel enough to compare him to Lucius. You seem to have forgotten that he saved your life last year. Your taunt was a vicious way to repay him. You know full well that no one chooses their relatives."

A tear rolled down her cheek. With an odd pang of regret, he knew he had made his point. She left as swiftly as Draco had, but without the anger that had marked his exit. Her shoulders were hunched and visibly trembling. For her sake, he hoped she made it to Gryffindor Tower before she started sobbing.

One glare sent the rest of the class scurrying to look busy if not actually return to work. While he knew the low buzzing of conversation most likely revolved around the scene between the two banished teens, he did his best to ignore it. Unfortunately, he could not stop dwelling on what had happened. As irrational as it seemed, he believed it to be his fault. If he hadn't fallen asleep, then both would have stayed at their cauldrons.

"Professor? Professor Snape, sir?"

Damn it, his eyes had closed again! Snapping them open, he found Hermione Granger nervously hopping from foot to foot, a vial of perfectly brewed Shrinking Solution in her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I've finished the potion and cleaned my workspace. May I be dismissed now, sir?"

Rubbing his hand across his forehead, he privately lauded her courage. She was truly a loyal friend. "So long as you return to your dormitory, Miss Granger. I'll not have students who should otherwise be in class wandering about the castle."

She nodded eagerly. "I will, sir. Thank you."

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

Flustered, she had to run back into the classroom as soon as she had left in order to place the Potions vial on his desk. Several of his Slytherins looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but he didn't care at that moment. If it were possible, he would have followed her. Instead, he had to endure another hour of tedium as he fought sleep.

When the bell finally rang, he accepted the other students' vials, and then staggered to his apartments. If he didn't take another Invigoration Draught, he feared he would fall asleep in the middle of dueling. The dunderheads would no doubt get a good laugh out of that.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Temporarily revitalized, he jogged up the stairs to the Great Hall. Instead of the twenty students he had expected, around a hundred and fifty milled about the empty room. As soon as he entered, a quiet hush settled over the lively crowd. Grateful that the students had chosen to be respectful for a change, he cast _Sonorus_ upon his voice and began.

"I'd like to remind you that the Dueling Club is open to third years and above, although first and second years are welcome to watch the formal dueling competitions that will begin in a month's time."

About a dozen girls, mostly second years, skipped away when he mentioned the eligibility requirements. As they giggled their way to the Entrance Hall, he briskly continued.

"Today, Professor Flitwick and I will demonstrate the proper forms of competitive dueling. Next week, you will begin to practice spells traditionally used in the sport. By the beginning of October, we will hold our first tournament. If that goes well, we will sponsor interschool tournaments during the months in which there are no TriWizard challenges. Please be sure to take a copy of the rules before you leave today and sign the attendance sheet."

Removing the spell, he watched in fascination as a long dueling platform suddenly popped into existence where the Head Table usually sat. The house-elves had certainly done an impeccable job restoring the ancient stage. A six foot high rectangle, thirty feet long and six feet wide, it was comprised of equal halves white marble and obsidian. Silver and gold protective runes were etched on its sides. A relic of power and splendor of a bygone era, it thrummed with enough protective energy to keep bystanders safe from the forces any duelist might unleash.

"She's a beauty, isn't she, Severus? I won the Interschool Dueling Cup on that platform in 1948. I beat Digory Kirke using a combination of _Tarantallegra_ and a Tickling Charm. Poor Dig laughed right through the award ceremony."

"It is certainly better warded than the wooden platform we used when I was a student. When Sirius Black sent a Blasting Curse towards his brother's feet, half the platform exploded. Twelve spectators were sent to the Hospital Wing."

"Oh, yes, I remember that. The Dueling Club was disbanded the next year, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he acknowledged curtly as they climbed the steps to the narrow stage.

The reason Dumbledore had disbanded the club was not something he liked to remember. During a practice session, Rodolphus Lestrange had hit a Hufflepuff with a Stunner and then proceeded to cast a Blood Draining Curse on her while she was unconscious. She'd been forced to drink Blood Replenishing Potions for three days while Madame Pomfrey researched the counter curse. Lestrange had been expelled, and the girl had spent two weeks in bed recovering. She'd later withdrawn and emigrated to Australia. He'd had nightmares for weeks that Lily had been the one hit with the curse.

Standing on the obsidian surface, he focused on the upcoming demonstration. Once the two teachers had both taken their places on the opposite ends of the platform, they bowed to each other and then raised their wands. Although the duel would normally begin at that point, Severus paused to explain the etiquette of bowing before allowing Filius to cast the first spell. They had both agreed to cast only verbal spells during this particular contest, and he easily dodged a Jelly-Legs Jinx before sending a Stinging Hex flying towards his diminutive colleague.

Ducking, Flitwick let it sail over his head where it dissipated harmlessly at the edge of the protective wards. The Charms professor then sent two Binding Spells hurtling towards him, but his hastily conjured Shield Charm easily repelled them. As his opponent's spells grew more complex, Snape forgot the crowd standing nearby. While he was forced to throw up Shield Charm after Shield Charm, he managed to launch some attacks of his own.

Sweat dripping into his eye and rolling down his beaked nose, he sent a Disarming Spell rocketing towards the older wizard's wand. Preoccupied with a flock of angry birds dive-bombing his head, Flitwick failed to see the path of the spell. His wand flew out of his grip to clatter onto the cold marble.

"Do you yield?"

It was the traditional query when disarming an opponent for the first time. Not many could perform wandless magic, and the question precluded those who couldn't from being Stunned while defenseless.

Since they had already agreed to keep the demonstration simple, Filius bowed in defeat. Summoning his wand, he walked to Snape's end of the platform to shake his hand as the Potions Master dismissed the students.

"I'd forgotten how cunning you could be, Severus. The jays were the perfect distraction. I shan't underestimate you next time."

"Next time we'll have a proper duel," he promised. "Thank you for showing these dunderheads the correct form. Lockhart was less than useless as a Dueling Instructor."

"I remember," he chuckled. "Speaking of which, where are Rose and Mr. Malfoy? I thought they'd be cheering you on from the front row."

"They've had a falling out. In fact, I had to send them both to their dorms for disrupting class this afternoon."

Stumbling on the steps, Flitwick grabbed at Snape's robes to steady himself. "Oh dear, that's unfortunate. I do hope this doesn't cause the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin to flare."

"Indeed."

He spoke to Flitwick for a few more minutes before excusing himself. As he walked out of the Great Hall, he passed several groups of chattering students, but they all fell silent as he approached. Having had enough of students and people in general that day, the tired wizard appreciated the lack of questions and comments. If he hadn't been so fatigued, he might have found their reticence odd, but the effects of the Invigoration Draught had already begun to fade. He wanted nothing more to crawl into his bed and sleep until Sunday. In the future, he would come to regret that decision very much.

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**Author's Notes** - Hi again! I have a new New Year's resolution. I'm going to work on updating this story as quickly as I can and stop feeling guilty when real life gets in the way. Since I'm definitely writing this for the enjoyment it brings me, I can't let an arbitrary missed deadline bother me so much. Which, I guess is a very backwards apology for taking two weeks to update. I hope everyone understands.

If you read the first paragraph closely, you'll notice I changed the wording a bit. The phrase, "It gets eaten" has bothered me since I posted it. For some reason I didn't think it sounded like Draco's speech pattern. (Yes, I obsess about dialogue way too much.) So now, I've changed it to "It's meant to be eaten", which probably won't matter to anyone but me.

I hope you enjoy the new chapter. I know some of you would like Severus to bash Dumbledore on the head by now, but he can't help Rose from Azkaban. Give him some time to strategize, but don't expect him to try to get the Headmaster sacked. Snape's relied on him for many years to make the tough decisions. Rightly or wrongly, he still looks up to the man who gave him a second chance.

Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and put this story on Alert or favorites!


	15. A Monument to the Potters

"Professor Snape! Professor Snape! Professor Snape, sir! Professor Snape, are you in there?"

As the loud pounding on his door pulled him from a deep slumber, shrill shouts prompted him to jump out of bed, wand at the ready. Only then did he realize he had fallen asleep in his robes. Thanking Merlin that he was dressed for a crisis, he yanked open his door to catch Hermione Granger mid knock. She launched into a breathless explanation before he could manage an approximation of a sneer.

"Professor Snape! You have to talk to Rose! You have to tell her it's not her fault!"

"Miss Granger," he thundered as his temper temporarily got the better of him. "Compose yourself. What has occurred to make you this anxious? And, for Circe's sake, why have you left Rose alone if you think her distraught?"

The bushy-haired Gryffindor bit her bottom lip as she took a few cleansing breaths. Even afterwards, she spoke in a horrified rush.

"It's early yet, and not many people have seen it, but Alicia Spinnett thought Rose needed to know, and, of course she did, but she's blaming herself, and I don't know what to do. I'm afraid she might do something stupid, especially after Draco. It isn't her fault. You simply must tell her that because—well, sir, I think she might do something drastic, and I can't be with her all the time, and I've told her you can't possibly hate her, but—"

"Miss Granger!"

Startled, she squeaked in surprise and then flushed in embarrassment. But, she did settle down.

"Sorry, Professor. I . . . ." Reluctantly, she handed him the Sunday edition of the _Daily Prophet_. "You need to see this."

Grabbing the newspaper impatiently out of her hands, he scanned the headline. Every muscle in his body tensed with rage, but he remained outwardly impassive. His curt tone, however, betrayed his inner turmoil.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Return to Gryffindor Tower immediately. Do not let Rose out of your sight. She'll have need of her friends."

To her credit, the teen didn't waste time talking. Instead, she fled down the dungeon corridor towards the stairs. Slamming the door shut behind him, Snape scanned the damn newspaper, but the lurid headline remained the same.

_**Lily Potter:**_

_**Saint or Strumpet?**_

_-Rita Skeeter_

_Long revered as the mother of the Girl Who Lived, the integrity of Lily Evans Potter has been called into question as her daughter's shocking parentage comes to light. _

_The young muggleborn witch married James Potter, the sole heir to the vast Potter fortune, on August 12, 1978. The couple continued their public opposition of You-Know-Who after their nuptials, becoming prominent champions of Muggle-born causes. Still newlyweds, Evans and Potter were both lauded as heroes for successfully defying the aforementioned wizard three times before going into hiding in early December of 1979._

_Many looked to the seemingly happy couple as a beacon of hope. Few were so public with their affection in such dark times. Who can forget the New Year's bash held at the Potter estates to welcome in 1979? The fireworks alone cost several thousand galleons. _

_However, shocking truths have recently been unearthed which prove the happy façade was nothing more than a hypocritical sham. Rose Potter, infant savior of the Wizarding World, is, in fact, not a Potter at all. Instead, she is the illegitimate lovechild of Lily Evans and former Death Eater Severus Snape. Some might wish to deny such an ugly truth, but it has been confirmed by an unlikely source—the child in question herself! _

_According to Dirk Cresswell, the Ministry official on Portkey duty when the two arrived at the Quidditch World Cup, "They were dressed like twins, both wearing odd, matching Muggle clothing, and I couldn't help but notice the resemblance. I even remarked upon it, and the girl [Rose Potter] agreed. It was only after I saw her scar that Snape tried to deny the relationship."_

_If that weren't confirmation enough, a fellow Hogwarts student corroborates the respected wizard's tale. "Potter called Professor Snape 'Dad' in class on Friday. I don't think you need any more proof than that. Why else would a Slytherin be saddled with raising a Gryffindor?"_

_Why else, indeed? The details of Rose Potter's guardianship have been kept secret, but it is known that she resided with Lily Evan's Muggle sister at least until the summer of 1993 when she was spotted in Diagon Alley with Arthur Weasley, who works in the Office of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, and his wife, Millie. When asked how a former Death Eater could be allowed to adopt the witch who defeated You-Know-Who, a junior Ministry official had this to say. "The documents are irrefutable and irrevocable, or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would have immediately removed her from his care. As much as it pains me to admit it, it appears Lily Potter was nothing more than a tawdry tart."_

_In light of this irrefutable proof, one must ask if James Potter was aware of his young wife's betrayal. Did he die thinking the child for whom he sacrificed so much was his? Or did he suspect that something was amiss? The same junior Ministry official confided that the Potter vault was practically empty when Rose attempted to claim her fortune. Perhaps the most damning evidence of all, without a proper heir, the Potter mansion located outside of Salisbury remains empty to this day. _

_We may never know the answer. But one thing is certain. The Girl Who Lived is not the girl we thought her to be, which may have chilling implications for the wizarding world._

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x _

Walking into the Gryffindor Common Room with Minerva at his heels, Severus dared anyone to comment. Most took one look at his stony expression and fled. The Weasley children, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet sat in a tight bunch around Rose, as if they could protect her from such baseless lies. As soon as she saw him, however, she pushed her way out of her friends' protective circle to run sobbing into his arms.

"I ruined Mum's reputation. I didn't mean to, honestly, I didn't! I just . . . Please don't be angry. I'm sorry. I truly am. Please, please, Dad, don't hate me. I didn't think. I'm sorry!"

Her cries quickly overcame her ability to speak, and McGonagall quietly suggested he take Rose to his quarters. Making a snap decision, he used the fireplace to Floo directly into his chambers and then to Spinner's End. The house already had acquired a fine layer of dust on the bookshelves and had that empty, unlived air about it. But, there was no denying they were home.

Sitting with the witch he loved like a daughter while she blubbered into his robes, Severus felt oddly relieved. Reading the article, he had feared Rose might distance herself from him as a reaction to the twisted truths contained in Rita Skeeter's lies. But she hadn't shied away from calling him Dad. Though a selfish sentiment, he found her behavior reassuring. She did not blame him for the fiasco. Now, he just had to convince her not to blame herself.

When her sobs finally turned to sniffles, he offered her a tissue. Briefly looking up as she took it, he could see the devastation written on her face. Her wet eyelashes had clumped together, and thick snot dripped from her red, wet, runny nose.

"You are a wonderful witch, Rose. I am very proud to have you for a daughter."

Hastily wiping her nose, she balled the dirty tissue into her fist. "You're not angry?"

"At Rita Skeeter? Beyond measurement. At you? Hardly. Did I not give you express permission to address me however you wished?"

"Not during class," she snuffled morosely.

He waved her protest away. "Extenuating circumstances. If Draco had not made such a fuss, I doubt anyone would have noticed."

"Yeah, he's a ruddy git," she mumbled before tremulously meeting his gaze. "Mum was a good person. I never meant to hurt her. Even my father . . . . I didn't do it on purpose. I just . . . why do I make a mess of everything?"

"You were not the one to write that article, Rose. Rita Skeeter did. She took a few words out of context and twisted them into a lie to sell newspapers."

Unexpectedly, she pulled away, pulling her knees to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut. When it became clear that she had every intention of remaining in such a state, he gently shook her arm.

"Rose, it's not your fault."

For the longest time, she didn't respond. Long after he'd given up hope of a reply, her voice crackled with shame.

"Sometimes, I wish it was true."

Torture was too good for the Skeeter woman. "Nevertheless, those lies are not your fault. You are not being punished for wishing. Wishes have no more power in the wizarding world than the Muggle world. You didn't cause this, Rose."

When she didn't immediately react, he added softly, "Your parents would understand. You were little more than a babe when they were killed."

Cracking open her eyes, she retorted, "I dishonored my father by addressing you with a title that rightfully belongs to him. And, now my lies have brought shame to my mother as well. Of course it's my fault!"

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded. "Rose, I expect you to answer me. Those are not your words. You are parroting someone else."

With obvious reluctance, she pulled a folded piece of parchment from the pocket of her jeans. He took it with no little amount of trepidation. As he read, his face drained of color.

_My Dear Rose,_

_By now you have read today's edition of the __Daily Prophet__. Please believe me when I say that I made every attempt to convince Miss Skeeter not to publish the article. In the end, I could only persuade her not to use any quotes directly attributed to me. What you have said publically is damning enough without added ammunition from one of James and Lily's friends. I am quite sure she would have taken anything I said out of context._

_I must admit to being terribly disappointed in you. Although I more than most know that Severus has performed his duties as your guardian exceptionally well, your unthinking remarks have greatly dishonored James, who sacrificed his life so you might live. James Potter is your father and always will be. I can only imagine how much it would have hurt him to hear you refer to his childhood enemy as your dad._

_I assume that you did not intentionally bring your mother's virtue into question. Lily, too, died protecting you, and the public speculation that she could ever be unfaithful to the man she loved above all else would have humiliated and shamed her. _

_I do not understand your reasoning in making such a spectacle of yourself. There is no doubt, however, that you have dishonored your father by addressing Severus with a title that could only properly belong to James. And, now your lies have brought shame to Lily as well. _

_I sincerely hope that you and Severus will strongly refute the mistaken conclusions drawn in the inflammatory article. Only then can you become the witch of whom your parents could be proud._

_Respectfully, _

_Remus J. Lupin_

As he reread the missive, tears streamed down Rose's face. "See? My fault."

Pocketing the letter, he pulled out another tissue to blot her face. "It's a load of tripe. Lupin tried to kill you last year. He is hardly the voice of reason in this matter."

When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand. "Do not make the mistake of defending him. Not to me. I've heard enough from Black." Standing, he made a snap decision. "Come, there is something you need to see."

Glassy, bloodshot eyes met his, and he held out his hand. Without hesitation, she took it, dropping the dirty tissues to the floor. Before he could lose his nerve, he Apparated them to a fallow field split in two by a winding country road.

For once managing to remain on her feet during their landing, Rose turned in obvious confusion. "Where are we?"

"A few miles from where we need to be."

Without waiting to see if she followed, he began walking towards the asphalt road. It was a sunny morning, and there was just enough wind to make their journey pleasant without being cold. She followed behind muttering under her breath. Holding back a smile, he pretended not to hear when she called him an inscrutable, mysterious git. He much preferred her annoyance to tears.

After walking briskly for almost a mile, they came across a gnarled apple tree. Half of the branches were dead, but a few were heavy with pale, green fruit. With a simple Cutting Charm, Severus liberated some of the more promising looking specimens. Tossing a slightly bruised apple to Rose, he searched for a few others that hadn't been eaten by worms. Picking them up, he continued walking. Considering the fast work she made of the tart fruit, he guessed she hadn't eaten breakfast either. Wordlessly, he tossed her another apple. She made a face, but sank her teeth into the dappled green skin.

Munching on his own impromptu breakfast, he tried to shake the feeling that he had made a horrible mistake. Albus would be livid once he realized he had taken Rose away from Hogwarts. But, the old man would likely be in a temper as soon as he read the _Daily Prophet_, so perhaps the two outrages would somehow cancel each other out. Minerva would scold, but certainly understand once he had the chance to explain. And, Black—well, he didn't really wish to consider Black at the moment. Lupin's accusatory rant had temporarily soured him against the Marauders in general. Potter's taste in friends truly had been execrable, save Lily, of course.

"Is that a village at the bottom of the hill?"

"Yes," he answered shortly, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road. He didn't wish to see their destination any sooner than needed.

"Well? Are you going to tell me its name? Or do I have to guess?"

Rose's still blotchy face almost convinced him that the trip was nothing more than a dangerous exercise in sentimental folly. But, he gritted his teeth and plodded on.

"I'm taking you to Godric's Hollow."

Amazingly, she showed no reaction to the news, and he reluctantly concluded that she didn't understand the significance of their destination. Silently cursing his own stupidity, he stopped in the middle of the quiet road to gaze thoughtfully upon the small yet quaint town.

"Dad? What is it? What does this place have to do with Rita Skeeter's article?"

"Godric's Hollow has nothing to do with that witch's lies. But, it has everything to do with you." He gestured towards the town. "This is the place where the Dark Lord killed your parents, Rose. Godric's Hollow was once your home."

A shudder ran through her and she looked up at him in a panic. "Why? Why take me here after I've ruined everything? What if someone see us? They're liable to hex us both."

"Two reasons. To prove to you once and for all that what happened that Halloween night was not your fault. And to convince you that you haven't ruined anything."

"Yeah, not to be a pessimist or anything, but I don't think seeing the house where I lived as a baby is going to convince me of either."

Her skepticism would have been laughable had her voice not cracked so often. Rose really had no idea of what had happened that night save those terrible few seconds when the Dark Lord had taken her mother's life. He couldn't believe the old man hadn't at least mentioned the war memorial. He had certainly urged Severus to visit often enough.

"Be that as it may, I believe differently."

Ignoring her angry sputtering, he resumed his trek towards Godric's Hollow. When he reached the bottom of the gentle slope, he turned around to find her unmoved at the top of the hill. For a moment, he considered going back for her, but he trusted his instincts and continued walking, although he ambled rather than strode at his usual brisk pace. Within ten minutes she strolled by his side, scrutinizing the neat cottages with a wary eye.

"So, which one is it?"

Approaching the town square, his Occlumency skills masked his growing anxiety. He'd seen pictures of the destruction, but he didn't know how he'd react to the standing in front of the site where Lily had been killed. For Rose's sake, he couldn't wallow in misplaced guilt.

"I've been told there is no mistaking it."

She grabbed his arm, stopping him in the middle of a pedestrian crossing. "You've been told? You mean you've never been here before?"

"Shall I award points for that brilliant deduction?"

As she wiped her nose against the back of her hand, her eyes grew huge. "You're as nervous as I am!"

A blue Fiat honked impatiently as they stood in the middle of the street. Pulling Rose to the sidewalk, he defensively crossed his arms. "Perhaps." As she continued to stare, he begrudgingly added, "You aren't the only one who needs closure, Rose."

Her mouth dropped open and he had to fight the urge to tell her she'd catch flies. Swiftly snapping out of it, she awkwardly patted his arm. "It's okay, Dad. I'm sure my parents would be proud of you, too."

He sniffed loudly because it was such a ridiculous notion. It definitely had nothing to do with the odd tightness in his throat or the pressure behind his eyes.

"The house is down the street on the opposite side of the square. It shouldn't take too much longer to reach it."

Just as those words had passed his lips, the bells of the small stone church called the faithful to Sunday services. As they reached the square, Rose looked longingly at the people filing inside. Snape felt a pang of guilt. He'd never asked the child if Petunia had taken her to church.

"Would you like attend services, Rose? We aren't on a schedule."

Hanging her head, she mumbled. "I've never been. Freaks aren't allowed."

"What have I told you about that word?" he hissed as he led her determinedly towards the ancient sanctuary.

"Not to use—No effing way!"

"Language, young lady," he admonished sternly until his eyes followed hers to the tall obelisk that dominated the square. Magically, it had transformed into a statue of three people, three very familiar people. Mute, they both stood awkwardly before it, their gazes transfixed.

"They look so happy," she finally whispered. "They had to go into hiding because of me. How can they seem so happy?"

He tore his eyes off the carving of James, Lily and the carefree child she carried in her arms. The baby in that frozen tableau stood beside him, now on the verge of adulthood, her anguish a heartrending contrast to the joyful emotions frozen on the stone figures' faces.

"They loved each other. And, they loved you. How could they not?"

With those few words, he abruptly understood how empty his life had been before he had taken Rose into his heart and into his home. The guilt he had borne after Lily's death had poisoned him as certainly as if he had ingested unadulterated wormwood. He had wasted all those years of freedom from the Dark Lord, existing rather than living. And, now that he had finally allowed himself to live, the monster threatened once more.

"I should have grown up here. I should have had a family. Why couldn't Voldemort have left me alone?"

Her ragged entreaty pulled him from his own thoughts. Unable to give her an answer, he squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rose."

Sniffling, she allowed him to lead her into the church. The bells had gone silent, and to Snape's dismay the priest gestured for them to come forward when he noticed the pair standing awkwardly in the back. Every member of the congregation watched as they walked reluctantly down the middle aisle to take their place in the empty front pew. Hiding his embarrassment, the wizard picked up a worn copy of the Book of Common Prayer and opened it to the correct page for Rose. She spent a few minutes diligently following along before her eyes drifted to the beautiful stained glass windows which filled the building with majestic colors.

As the prayers of his early childhood washed over him, Severus felt his rage slowly drain away. While he would like nothing better than to hex that Skeeter woman within an inch of her life, he refused to dwell on the ridiculous article in the _Daily Prophet_. As he had told Narcissa when the horrid witch had defamed her, true friends would not believe such lies and the rest didn't matter. In time, the girl he loved like a daughter would learn the truth of that as well.

Lost in his thoughts, the time passed far more quickly than he had realized. It seemed like they had just entered when the congregation began to sing the recessional hymn. He had no idea what readings had been proclaimed, nor could he remember a word of the homily, save a vague sense that it had had something to do with judging oneself before judging another. In retrospect, it seemed strangely appropriate.

When the final chord of the organ had died away, Rose eagerly turned towards him. "They didn't talk about burning witches once."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who told you they did?"

"Dudley." As soon as she said her cousin's name, she sheepishly ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. "I guess he had a good laugh at that one."

Sitting in the front pew, they were some of the last to leave. The elderly vicar stood near the front steps, talking to a few members of the congregation. As soon as he saw them, however, he deliberately excused himself to approach the latecomers. Snape stifled a groan. He didn't like being noticed, especially by some well-meaning clergyman who would invariably ask too many uncomfortable questions.

The man did nothing of the sort. Instead, he heartily shook Rose's hand. "Miss Potter, I am so delighted to see you. You've grown into a lovely young woman."

The smile on Rose's face froze; she dropped the man's hand to take a half-step behind her guardian. Severus, for his part, fingered the pocket of his black trousers, itching to brandish his wand.

"Thanks," she murmured and then looked the balding man in the eye as she regained some self-confidence. "Um, have we met? I'm afraid I don't recall."

"I'm the one who should apologize," he immediately replied. "I'm sure you were too young to remember your life in Godric's Hollow. But as soon as I saw you, I knew. Your mother's eyes were that exact shade of green. Have you had a chance to visit the churchyard yet? I assure you that your parents' graves are well maintained. In fact, if you give me a moment to change out of my vestments, I'd be happy to show you where they're located."

Rose didn't give the man another thought. She raced towards the churchyard, slowing only long enough to pass through the narrow kissing gate.

"Thank you, Vicar, but as you can see, Rose would rather find it on her own."

"Mr. Snape, wait."

Severus spun on his heel to face the man, his wand at the ready. "How do you know my name?"

The elderly man remained remarkably composed. He even nodded in approval when he noticed Snape's wand.

"I'm a Squib, Mr. Snape. But, my wife Mary is a witch. I read the _Daily Prophet_ this morning and discovered you were Miss Potter's guardian. I wish the laws against libel in the wizarding world were as strict as the Muggle ones. The lies that reporter had the audacity to print must have been quite upsetting for Rose. Still, the Lord works in mysterious ways. I must thank you for bringing her here. Many of us have wondered how Lily and James' child has fared throughout the years. They will give thanks now that I can tell them she is protected and well cared for."

He didn't know how to begin to respond to such a statement. Feeling oddly discomfited, he pocketed his wand. "Yes, well, I should be going. Rose will be wondering where I am."

"Certainly, I've detained you long enough." Then, with a gentle compassion that unnerved Snape most of all, he quietly added, "I pray you both find the peace you're searching for."

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He found her easily enough in the quiet churchyard. She stood in front of a white marble headstone which encompassed two graves. Etched into the marble were the names of her parents, their birthdates and the date they died. Underneath those two inscriptions was an epitaph that Severus suspected Albus had chosen: _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

As soon as she noticed him standing behind her, she hastily wiped her eyes. "What's that writing mean? Professor Dumbledore told me no one can bring back the dead."

"The Headmaster is correct, Rose. The epitaph on your parents' grave is a quote from the Bible. It refers to the promise of life after death, although I believe John Donne captured the sentiment much better."

As he gazed upon gleaming white headstone, he softly recited,

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."

She stared at him, her mouth agape, either from incomprehension or an inability to believe he could quote poetry. When Severus finished, he found his vision blurring with unshed tears. Hastily, he wiped his eyes much like Rose had done when she had first spotted him.

"That's . . . ."

She trailed off before he could discover if she thought it brilliant or hideous. Plucking distractedly at her bracelet, she continued to stand in front of the grave for almost a half an hour. He backed away to give her some privacy, discovering quite by accident the gravesite of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore, Albus' mother and sister. He thought it odd that his mentor had never mentioned that he hailed from the same village where the Potters had lived. In fact, Albus had shared little about his early years, and Severus had never once thought to ask, going so far as to interrogate his brother Aberforth instead.

Eventually, Rose found him as he wandered through the oldest section of the cemetery. She'd been crying again, but he handed her a few tissues without commenting.

"Thanks." Loudly blowing her nose, she looked inquisitively around. "These stones are ancient. Look, one of them has moss growing on it."

Peering at the crumbling stone, he saw that it was inscribed with a strange, triangular symbol that definitely marked the grave as belonging to a witch or wizard. Mildly curious, he peered at the inscription, but the most he could make out was the name Ignotus and that the surname began with a 'P'.

"Godric's Hollow is said to have been named after Godric Gryffindor. Some of these stones could be close to a thousand years old depending on the strength of the spell used to preserve them."

"From the way this section looks, I'd say the spells are long gone."

"Indeed. Would you like to see the house now?"

She shrugged and he took her hand. "We'll go together. And, then, ice cream at Fortescue's. I left without informing anyone where we were going. Might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg."

"Lunch first? Those apples weren't too filling."

Since she hadn't squawked about being seen in Diagon Alley, he readily agreed. As they passed the pub in the square and walked down the peaceful lane of tidy cottages, Rose tightened her grip on his hand. Their pace slowed the farther they walked, but far too soon for either of them, they stood in front of the sad ruins.

The damage was far worse than Snape had imagined. Part of the top floor had been completely blown apart. Dangling bits of wood and shards of glass were all that remained of the windows. Ivy climbed the walls while the grass grew waist-high, and the hedge had need of a chainsaw rather than pruning clippers.

"I have to see."

As soon as Rose touched the rusty gate, a wooden sign rose up out of the overgrown ground. Inscribed in golden letters, it said:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,

Lily and James Potter lost their lives.

Their daughter, Rose, remains the only wizard

Ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

In its ruined state as a monument to the Potters

And as a reminder of the violence

That tore apart their family.

No matter how hard he swallowed, Severus couldn't remove the tight knot that had formed in his throat. Standing next to him, silent tears ran down Rose's face as she traced the graffiti on the outer edges of the sign. Most had simply carved their initials, although some had left short messages expressing their sympathy and gratitude.

Giving his hand a final squeeze, she pushed against the gate with all her might. The sign retreated into the ground as the rusty metal gave way with a screech. The scraggly weeds and overgrown grass parted before her, and he trailed cautiously behind. When she reached the gaping hole where the front door had been, Rose hesitated for a moment, but then went inside. With a final look towards the front gate, Severus followed, his glowing wand illuminating the dark shadows inside the house.

"My father tried to buy Mum and me some time," Rose announced in a monotonous tone as she climbed the rotting stairs. To Severus, she appeared lost in the horrible memory of Lily's death, the very memory the Dementors had unleashed on the ride to Hogwarts the previous year. When she finally reached the top floor of the house, she absently stroked the wooden cot that sat at the edge of the destruction. Her unfocused eyes only bolstered his opinion that she had slipped into a trance-like state.

"Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside. Stand aside."

Then, abruptly she spun towards him, wand out, her face temporarily distorted with anger and grief. For a moment, he thought her fury directed at him, and readied himself for her judgment. However, the destructive spells she hurled flew over his head to explode harmlessly in the bright sky above.

"He's nothing more than a bloody coward! I was a baby! I wasn't any threat to him! He didn't have to kill them! I should have had a mum and dad! I shouldn't have grown up in a cupboard! I should have grown up knowing about magic and riding a broom and laughing at my dad's stupid jokes and playing with my brothers and sisters just like Ron! But Voldemort stole all that from me! He's nothing but a **fucking coward** who was so afraid of a stupid prophecy that he was willing to kill a baby! Well, you know what? I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill him if it's the last thing I do! Because no one else should have to lose their parents like I did! Do you hear me, Snape? No one! No one!

She collapsed in his arms, keening with grief, gasping for air and apologizing for screaming at him all at once. All he could do was hold her and tell her how sorry he was, how if he could have done things differently he would have. And, still she cried, and he cried with her, for once allowing himself to express the sorrow that had gnawed at him for so many years.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. I was just so angry. It's not fair. It's just not fair."

"No, Rose, it's not," he assured her as he searched his pockets for more tissues. She'd already used the lot, so he took the cuff of his sleeve and carefully wiped her nose before scourgifying his shirt.

The sight of him doing something so utterly undignified pulled a laugh from her throat. "Look at us. We're a right mess."

"I daresay I have suffered worse indignities."

"Name one."

"Have you seen Longbottom's boggart?"

This time, she collapsed from her giggles. He sat beside her, a stupid grin on his face. After everything, Rose Potter could still laugh, which was something of a miracle in itself. After a while, they solemnly explored the rest of the house. Nothing triggered Rose's memory, but she did find a shoebox full of letters underneath her parent's bed.

Holding onto the box tightly with both hands, she took a last look around James and Lily's bedroom. "I think we can leave now, Dad. I think I've seen everything I need to see."

"Are you certain, Rose? It is unlikely you will be able to visit your home again."

"This house hasn't been my home for a long time. And, I think Mum and Dad would be happy that I found a new home with you." With the resilience of the young, she smiled. "Let's go, Dad. I'm famished."

They discussed lunch possibilities as they walked down the stairs and out the remnants of the house. Rose wanted to go into Muggle London to eat at a restaurant Dudley had once bragged about. Severus, on the other hand, was perfectly content to dine at the Leaky Cauldron, arguing that it was conveniently located near Fortescue's. He had been about to suggest adding a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies when he glanced at the gate. Instinctively, he pulled Rose behind him. Outside of the ruins of the Potter's home stood Albus Dumbledore. There wasn't a twinkle to be seen in his ice cold eyes.

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Author's Notes - Hi again! Although some of you might have seen this coming for a while now, this particular chapter was a difficult one to pull together. The Potter's epitaph, much of the description of Godric's Hollow and the sign which magically appears in front of the ruined house are all taken from The Deathly Hallows, and all credit for those wonderful details goes to J.K Rowling, not me. I tried to write the article for the _Daily Prophet_ in the same spirit as the ones mentioned in the books. So, yes, it is lurid and a trifle inaccurate due to the Quick Quotes Quill and Rita Skeeter's love of scandal. And, the poem of course belongs to John Donne. I do apologize for the formatting. The article looked much better in Word, but the indentions and justification didn't translate here.

As for why I had them visit Godric's Hollow, I'd always wondered how Harry might have reacted had he been able to visit before it became a deadly trap. While no one can ever know, I believe Rose (and Severus) will find the visit of great benefit in the months to come. And, no, Ignotus Peverell has no significance to this story at this point in time, but it is his moss-covered grave Rose points out to Snape in the churchyard.

Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! A big thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review and put this story on alert or favorite. I hope it doesn't disappoint.


	16. Sticks and Stones

_Outside of the ruins of the Potter's home stood Albus Dumbledore. And, there wasn't a twinkle to be seen in his ice cold eyes._

His wand clutched in his hand, Severus shouted, "Tell me what I ate for breakfast."

The figure of Dumbledore smiled briefly, but no mirth softened his steely gaze. "Come, my boy. You'll have to do better than that. It would be easy enough to guess you ate alone this morning if you ate at all. Ask me something only I would know."

The gentle yet stinging rebuke convinced the spy like nothing else that the Headmaster stood before him. However, he asked another question for form's sake. "What do you see in the mirror of Erised?"

The mighty wizard froze, his gray robes rippling in the breeze the only evidence that he hadn't been petrified. Severus realized his mistake at once. They'd never discussed the subject, although after Aberforth's revelations, the Potions Master thought he understood Dumbledore's most desperate desire all too well.

"Funnily enough, Miss Potter once asked me the same question. I think it best that I tell you what I told her. I see myself holding a warm pair of socks."

"He did." Rose whispered in confirmation, but she didn't move. That was fine with Snape. He still didn't know what his mentor might do. It would be easier to defend himself from an Obliviation if Rose stood safely behind him.

"Put down your wand, Severus. Return with Miss Potter to the castle and we shall talk."

The old man sounded weary and a trifle impatient. Such a tone in the usually placid wizard indicated that he was angry and upset. Still, the weekend spent resting had given Severus ample time to think. He was done with obeying Dumbledore's every command.

"Actually, Headmaster, Rose and I were about to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron."

Again, Dumbledore paused. Severus thought he heard a tiny squeak of terror from Rose, but he didn't dare look. If Albus intended to try anything, it would be now. Seconds passed and nothing happened. Then, the Headmaster nodded gravely, his keen blue eyes boring into Snape's black ones.

"Very well. I shall await your return."

With that, he Disapparated, leaving the Potions Master and his ward alone once again outside the remains of the Potters' home. Snape could hardly believe that Dumbledore had given in so easily, but Rose didn't give him a chance for introspection. Moving to face him, she showered him with questions.

"Are you in trouble? He can't sack you, can he? I mean, you're my guardian, so you can take me where you wish, right? Why didn't anyone mention Godric's Hollow before? Why am I always the last one to know about my life? I swear Hermione knows more about me than I do. Dad?"

"What have I said about swearing?"

"Not to do it."

"Then don't. Now, give me your hand. With the Headmaster waiting, it would be unwise to dawdle."

She groaned and rolled her eyes at his stern response as she clasped his hand. Once they had Apparated to Diagon Alley, she was too focused on keeping upright to realize that he hadn't answered a single one of her questions. Their arrival quickly turned into a public spectacle. Witches and wizards who should have known better stopped to stare as they walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. While no one dared say anything, the unnatural silence unnerved Rose. She fretfully twisted her bracelet as she did her best to ignore the glares and curious glances. By the time they arrived at the pub, she looked to the ground as she walked, her shoulders hunched.

For his part, the Potions Master glowered at anyone foolish enough to make eye contact. By the time they arrived at their destination, he was in such a mood that the toothless innkeeper took one look at him and led the pair down the hall to the Leaky Cauldron's private parlor. Appearing extremely ill at ease, he took their order and left.

Rose stared at the empty fireplace. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." After a second, she bitterly added, "Personally, I'd rather the sticks. This is going to be second year all over again, isn't, Dad? Only this time, I've dragged you into it."

Damn, but he felt old—and completely inadequate. "Words only hurt if you let them, Rose. You must learn to ignore the opinions of such ignorant fools."

Her lips twitched. "Like you did? Your death glare should be made the fourth Unforgiveable, you know. I'm surprised a few wizards at the bar didn't go up in flames."

In spite of himself, he smirked at the compliment. "I'll have you know I have spent many years perfecting that glare."

"On terrified first years, no doubt." Her grin quickly faded. "It will be alright, won't it?"

"Alright is a rather vague term. But, yes, I believe so."

The pair lapsed into a weary silence until Tom returned with lunch. Digging into the roast beef, Rose ate with enthusiasm and soon began to chatter about what she might purchase at Quality Quidditch Supplies. As much as Severus found the sport tedious, even he appreciated discussing a subject that had nothing to do with the _Daily Prophet_, Rose's parentage or Lily's supposed infidelity.

Once he had paid the bill, they decided that ice cream came before shopping. London was not nearly as warm or sunny as Godric's Hollow had been, but Fortescue's still packed a crowded. Florean took their order without comment, and the Potions Master feared for a moment that the good-natured wizard believed the hogwash in the newspaper. He was soon proven wrong when the middle-aged man joined them outside as Rose scraped the last of the chocolate sauce from the bottom of her bowl.

"How are my two favorite truants today?"

"Sadly out of ice cream," Rose answered with a cheeky grin.

He smiled at her obvious ploy and gestured to his shop. "Luckily, there's a remedy for that, Miss Potter. Order another sundae while I speak to Professor Snape. Tell Lucretia it's on the house."

Without looking for permission, Rose jumped up and scooted into the ice cream shop with a belated, "Thanks!" As soon as she left, the wizard's sunny smile disappeared.

"How is she holding up?"

"Better than I'd expected. We visited Godric's Hollow this morning."

Florean nodded sagely. "I imagine that would put a few things in perspective. How is Albus taking it?"

Severus didn't speak right away, which the other wizard took as answer enough. "That bad, eh? I wouldn't worry. He's no stranger to scandal himself."

Snape intended to ask the shopkeeper exactly what he had meant by his statement, but Rose returned as quickly as she had left, without ice cream. Her cheeks were tinged red and her lips had compressed into a scowl.

"I changed my mind."

Before he could reprimand the teen for her rudeness, Rose seemed to recall the presence of the older wizard. "Sorry, Mr. Fortescue. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's quite alright, Miss Potter. I shouldn't leave Lucretia alone for long. It's rather busy today."

"Yeah, it is," she instantly agreed, the scowl returning to her face.

The older man didn't pry. Instead, he bid them both a good day and returned to his shop. Watching the frown on his ward's face deepen as her gaze lingered on the ice cream shop, Severus wondered what dunderhead had been rude enough to say something directly to her. Who was he kidding? Rose was right. Words did have the power to hurt.

"Do you intend to tell me what was said, or shall I simply assume you are practicing your own death glare?"

Ripping her eyes away from Fortescue's, she did the one thing that annoyed him most of all—she shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? I can't stop people from saying what they like."

"No," he heavily agreed. "You cannot. Now, do you wish to crawl back to the relative safety of Hogwarts where you can sulk in your room? Or would you prefer to visit the Quidditch shop?"

Immediately, she turned her glare on him, and he had the overwhelming desire to laugh. At that moment, she looked every inch a Snape, Potter's chin notwithstanding. Refuting the article would prove next to impossible.

Thankfully, Rose did not see his struggle with semi-hysterical mirth. And, his snide questions did just what he'd hoped they'd do. She stalked towards Quality Quiddith Supplies, determined to show him that the _Daily Prophet's_ lies wouldn't send her running to her room.

The jaunt to the Quidditch shop was as tedious as he had feared. He did, however, glean some gift ideas from her long perusal of the store shelves. Rose bought a few practice Snitches with some pocket money he had given her before lunch. No one took much notice of her, but she was careful to keep her scar covered with her fringe and her face down. Severus didn't blame the teen. He had received more than one disbelieving stare, although most had dismissed him after taking a long look at his entirely Muggle clothing. He supposed most Death Eaters wouldn't be caught dead in such dress.

After Apparating outside the Hogwarts gates and escorting Rose to her Common Room, Severus returned to his own quarters to change. It was one thing to wander around Diagon Alley wearing nothing but black trousers and a white shirt, quite another to face Albus in such simple attire. Although loath to admit it, he used his black robes as his personal shield. It was so easy to slip into the persona of Severus Snape, greasy git of the dungeons when wearing such severe garb. Perhaps in such a state, the Headmaster's condemnation wouldn't hurt quite so much.

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Walking into the Headmaster's office, Severus stiffened his shoulders as Rose's frantic questions earlier in the day came back to haunt him. Technically, he could be sacked for what he had done, but he doubted Albus would make such a risky move. Legally, he was Rose's guardian. If he chose to withdraw her from Hogwarts the old man couldn't stop him, Unbreakable Vow or no.

Standing in front of the Headmaster's desk, he folded his hands and waited for Albus to acknowledge him. He waited silently for another ten minutes, well aware that the pointed snubbing was part of his punishment. Finally, the old codger put down his pen and looked up.

"Ah, Severus. How good of you to come. I take it the fare at the Leaky Cauldron was to your liking?"

He ground his teeth, hating the anticipation of the impending lecture. On a dangerous whim, he grinned cheekily at the Headmaster. "Actually, Albus, the peppermint ice cream at Fortescue's has been the highlight of my day. Perhaps you should request the recipe for the house-elves."

For an instant, Dumbledore's eyes lost their bland stare, and he witnessed the icy rage he had sensed in Godric's Hollow. Then, in the space of a blink, the mask of congeniality returned.

"It must be extraordinary indeed to receive such praise from you. Perhaps I should request the recipe if only to keep you from tearing about the countryside with Rose Potter. There are rules and procedures which must be followed for a teacher to take a student off the grounds."

"I'd trust you to remember that I am not merely Rose's professor, but her guardian. Taking her off the grounds—"

"Is still not allowed without several forms signed in triplicate, guardian or no!" he thundered. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, my boy? Do you realize the commotion you caused? Minerva was worried sick! We'd been searching for you for hours! I was just about to get the Ministry involved! Imagine my surprise when the wards I'd placed around Godric's Hollow informed me of her presence."

Taking a long, slow breath, Dumbledore pressed his fingers together before regaining his composure. "Under any other circumstances, I would applaud your compassion. I'm certain that Rose has suffered greatly from the insidious lies perpetrated by Rita Skeeter. Might I remind you, however, that Voldemort grows stronger with each passing day. What if he had laid a trap for her there? Even one such as he recognizes the temptation to revisit the past. You would have been helpless to—"

It was his turn to thunder. "I am not helpless! And the Dark Lord is little more than a shade at this point! He is dependent on that rat Pettigrew to maintain his tenuous hold on life."

Reining in his temper, he sat wearily across from his mentor. "I admit that taking Rose to Godric's Hollow was a decision made in haste, but it was not a hasty decision. I considered the possibility that the house might have been a trap. However, I concluded that it was far more likely to be so in the future. She deserved to see, Albus. She needed to understand the sacrifice Lily and James made for her. She needed to see her parents' graves."

Inexplicably, the Headmaster sagged, briefly resting his head in his hands. "Oh, my boy. My poor boy. What am I to do with you?"

His reaction stunned the younger wizard, who for once didn't attempt to hide behind his stern façade. "I don't understand."

Blue eyes met black. Snape had never witnessed the torment in his mentor's expression as he did at that moment.

"And, I hope you never do. Severus, I beg you trust me on this. I know that you do not approve of Rose's participation in the TriWizard Tournament, but it is imperative she enter. I simply need more time. My research is not yet complete. There are actions which must be taken before Rose has any chance of defeating Voldemort. I fear once he regains power it will be too late."

"Too late for what?" he demanded, shaken by the old man's sudden change in mood. "What actions must be taken? She must kill or be killed. As much as I despise that part of the prophecy, it is rather straightforward."

The images of the former Headmasters hovered anxiously in their portraits as Dumbledore grew broodingly silent. The younger wizard didn't move lest he influence Albus' somber reflection. Long after Snape believed the Headmaster had chosen not to respond, he posed a chilling question.

"What do you know of Horcruxes?"

He stared at Fawkes' perch, certain he had not heard correctly. When it finally registered in his numb brain that Dumbledore had asked exactly what he'd feared, he quickly put the pieces together.

"That is how the Dark Lord has survived all these years? He has hidden a piece of his soul?"

"Ah, so you are familiar with the term. Excellent, then I do not have to waste my breath with unnecessary explanation."

Clamping his mouth shut, Severus bit back an expletive. How dare Albus speak so calmly, his eyes back to their infuriating twinkle? "Do not try my patience, old man. This isn't an academic exercise, but Rose's life."

The twinkle disappeared. "I am only too well aware of that, Severus."

He clutched the arm of the chair. "Then tell me you have discovered the vessel which holds the Horcrux. I assure you; I can find a way to destroy it."

He thought he heard one of the portraits snigger in the background. He ignored it until Dumbledore sternly addressed it. "That is quite enough, Phineas."

Phineas Nigellus Black didn't seem at all intimidated by the powerful wizard's admonishment. Perhaps portraits had no sense of self-preservation, or perhaps this particular portrait mirrored his namesake's personality better than most. According to accounts written by his contemporaries, the Slytherin had been exceedingly blunt, bordering on cruel.

"You might as well tell him, Dumbledore. He already suspects that you aren't as wise and all-knowing as you pretend to be."

"Might I remind you, Phineas, that you could just as easily hang in Mr. Filch's office as mine."

Had Dumbledore just threatened a portrait? Snape couldn't quite comprehend the obvious hostility the two shared. He couldn't dispute the result, however. Black disappeared in a huff. Returning his attention to the wizard seated across from him, he asked the obvious question. The Headmaster reluctantly reached into his desk drawer to pull out a small black book with a gaping hole in the middle.

"Riddle's diary," Snape supplied. "Are you suggesting it contained a Horcrux?"

"It is not a suggestion, my boy, but a simple fact. Rose explained that the young Tom Riddle fed off Ginerva Weasley's life force. The weaker she became, the more solid he appeared. Riddle bragged that as soon as she died, he would live. How else do you explain such a thing?"

Snape thought of all the Dark objects and spells he knew, which took several minutes. Finally, he conceded defeat. "Clearly, I cannot. I would then argue that having no corporeal form, the Dark Lord should have perished once the Horcrux had been destroyed."

"And, yet, we have evidence to the contrary."

Damn the insufferable old coot! How long had he known? Since the end of Rose's second year? Was that why he had been so insistent upon returning Rose to Privet Drive? As dispassionately as he could, Severus countered, "Then, we must conclude he created more than one."

"And therein lies the conundrum, Severus. I know for a fact that Voldemort liked to keep trophies, even as a young child. His interest in the Founders has at times bordered on obsession. As you know, he was employed for a short time at Borgin and Burkes, where I suspect he abused his position to acquire two ancient artifacts, Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. It is likely that he created Horcruxes with both, but even I cannot guess at the exact number he has made."

His thoughts flew to Rose, and a dread chill settled in his heart. He could shape her into the most powerful witch of her age or any other, and still the bastard would survive. She would be forced to live in a constant state of near paranoia as she waited for Voldemort's next attack. If the Horcruxes were not found and destroyed, she would never know her dream of a normal life.

"It is hopeless, then."

"Not quite." The Headmaster peered at him benevolently, his blue eyes sparkling over his half-moon spectacles. "I cannot guess at the exact number, but I believe there is someone who can."

Severus asked whom simply to keep the waiting to the minimum. He hated when the old man turned coy. Pleased that he played along, Dumbledore's smile widened.

"Horace Slughorn. And, I have you to thank for bringing him back to Hogwarts. He is to be Pansy Parkinson's Potions tutor."

He sneered in disbelief. "You're more likely to get gold from a goblin."

"Undoubtedly. Which is why I have no intention of asking. You will."

That settled it. The bearded old man sitting in front of him had finally gone insane.

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"He wants you to do what? Merlin, Snape, has he gone completely mad? This is Slughorn we're talking about. I'd have a better chance of getting an answer to that question than you do. He despised you. In fact, I'd have a much better chance. Let me do it."

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, long shadows hid Sirius Black's face, but Snape could almost hear his look of incredulity. For once he didn't take offense. Severus had excelled in Potions in spite of his former professor rather than because of him. Too poor to interest the man for his family connections, his carefully concealed talent had been ignored until Slughorn had received his O.W.L. results. By then, the resentful young Slytherin had wanted nothing to do with the wizard, and had told him so in rather harsh terms.

"Who said I had any intention of asking? Albus interrogated each of Riddle's former teachers. Horace Slughorn was the only one to suggest the Dark Lord expressed any interest in Horcruxes. He claims, however, to have warned him off the subject. Asking again will only make that idiot more defensive."

"Then, how—"

Severus glowered, but the relative darkness rather spoiled the effect. "I am astounded yet again by your obtuseness, Black. Asking politely is not the only method of interrogation at my disposal. Rest assured, I will discover any secrets the insufferable boor is hiding and leave it at that."

"I believe you," he chuckled dryly. "In fact, I'll help you hold him down while you pour the Veritaserum down his throat. Better yet, I'll give him a bottle of Ogden's finest and spike it myself. Ol' Sluggy's always been partial me."

"And, isn't that a lovely image?"

Sirius barked with laughter, which only irritated the other wizard. At times, he found Black's sense of humor tedious. With his head pounding from Minerva's dressing down, he detested it. Subconsciously, he chose the one topic he knew the other man wouldn't find at all funny.

"It isn't Slughorn I'm worried about at the moment." He pulled out Lupin's missive and thrust it into Black's hands. "It's that despicable wolf. What right does he have to judge Rose? If he ever owls her again, I shall hunt him down and chop his body into little bits."

Casting Lumos, Sirius quickly scanned the letter. When he finally spoke, there was no hint of frivolity in his voice. "I'm certain Remus didn't intend to sound this harsh, Severus. Although, I can certainly see why it would have upset Rose."

"Lupin is a coward. I tire of you pretending he's anything else. Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Once a Marauder always a Marauder, eh, Black?"

Instead of answering, the annoying mutt paced between two trees, his head bent in thought. Sneering, Snape wondered how long it would take him to come up with a suitably sarcastic reply.

"Severus . . . ." Far from derisive, Black sounded unusually tentative. "It's not a question of choosing you over him. Remus hasn't seen what . . . . Fuck, this is coming out all wrong."

"Get to the point, mutt."

Black let out a loud huff of air through his nose. "I don't know how to say this without being indelicate, but, Rose considers you to be her father, and anyone with eyes can understand why. If there happens to be more truth to that than you would care to admit, I would never presume to judge."

Much later, after he had calmed enough to reflect rationally on Black's speech, Severus would be humbled by the man's willing acceptance of such a situation, mistaken though he was. In the heat of the moment, however, only one thought drove him.

"How dare you even suggest that Lily was unfaithful to her marriage vows! She would never have done such a thing!"

Rather than patiently enduring his chastisement, Black grew inexplicably angry. "Why? Because it might knock her off that pedestal where you keep her memory? Well, let me tell you something, Snape; she wasn't perfect, far from it! Lily was quick to anger and slow to forgive. James idolized her, but even I knew they had married too young. She used to fly into jealous rages whenever his work took him away overnight. Once, she accused him of sleeping with Amelia Bones! She had matured by the time Rose was born, but when she found out she was pregnant, she slapped James so hard it sent his glasses flying. She accused him of Confunding her when she performed the Contraceptive Charm. So, excuse me for entertaining the idea that she might have decided to renew her relationship with you at some point. She and James fought constantly until Rose came along. The only thing Lily enjoyed more than fighting with him was the sex that followed when they patched things up."

Severus wanted nothing more than to blast such words from the insufferable mutt's mouth, but he didn't think Rose would forgive him for killing her godfather. Instead, he ignored the outrageous lies along with the accuser. Turning sharply on his heel, he swept out of the Forbidden Forest, his black robes billowing behind like a trail of angry smoke.

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Extremely out of sorts, Severus skipped dinner in favor of brewing Potions. He made enough Burn Healing Paste to coat the entire school. It didn't improve his mood. Lily wouldn't have acted that way, not to Potter, not when she'd spent all of seventh year fawning all over him like . . . like many of the immature, insecure teens he taught every year. Lily wasn't . . . he didn't want to think about it. He wouldn't think about it.

Rose didn't come by his quarters like he had expected her to that evening. After suffering through several hours of anxiety, he checked on her whereabouts with the Marauders' Map. It showed her in the Gryffindor Common Room along with Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and the Weasley twins. Since he couldn't think of a safer place for her, he pushed his worry to the side.

For the sake of thoroughness, he checked to make sure the blasted mutt had returned to the castle. Black's name appeared next to Draco's in the boy's dormitory. On impulse, he searched for Parkinson's name and found her alone in the Slytherin Common Room. Not for the first time, he wished the map would show a visual image of the witch or wizard in question, but he finally put it down once he convinced himself that no stranger lurked in the hallways.

He reluctantly went to bed near midnight. If only he could brew a potion that would allow him to forego sleep safely. There was so much to do, so much to think about, and he truly feared that they lived on borrowed time. Even so, he was snoring within minutes only to be woken up several hours later by the sound of fists pounding on his door.

A pajama clad Rose stood in the open doorway. Barefoot, glasses askew, her hair a fright, she threw herself into his arms.

"He was so angry! He told Pettigrew that it all made sense. That you wouldn't have asked for the life of a mudblood otherwise. He believes it, Dad. He believes it. Voldemort's going to kill you!"

It was too much. The irony of the situation briefly overtook him. He threw back his head and laughed.

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**Author's Notes** - Well, I can only hope the chapter was worth the wait. The balance of power between Dumbledore and Snape will continue to play a large role in this story, although I'd give Severus the upper hand for the moment. He's finally gotten a confession of sorts from the Headmaster, although it's tempered by the realization that Dumbledore withheld his suspicions for so long.

And, no, I'm not trying to make Lily look bad. Most couples marrying at such a young age are going to have their share of problems. As Sirius stated, she had matured greatly by the time Rose was born. (Plus, he considered James a brother and would be more likely to see any conflict from his perspective.) Severus does tend to idolize her, though, so any negative comment about her is likely to set him off.

Thanks so much for your patience! Reviews are greatly appreciated and will be answered in a more timely manner from now on.


	17. Vitriol

**Author's Notes** - Hi there! Well, I'm definitely better at writing drama than the day to day life of Severus Snape. I've rewritten this chapter three times, and I'm still not completely happy with it. Unfortunately, not every chapter can end on a cliffhanger as much as I'd like them to. Don't worry, the next update should have more action. Thanks to everyone who took time to review the last chapter. I appreciate the feedback!

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_A pajama clad Rose stood in the open doorway. Barefoot, glasses askew, her hair a fright, her entire body shook as she threw herself into his arms. _

"_He was so angry! He told Pettigrew that it all made sense. That you wouldn't have asked for the life of a mudblood otherwise. He believes it, Dad. He believes it. Voldemort's going to kill you!"_

_It was too much. The irony of the situation briefly overtook him, and he threw back his head and laughed._

"Dad? Dad? Professor? PROFESSOR SNAPE!"

Severus abruptly stopped laughing. Nothing seemed remotely funny anymore.

"Oh, Rose. I apologize. I did not mean to make light of your nightmare. But, the Dark Lord will try to kill me regardless of your parentage. I accepted that the night I found you in Surrey. I'm afraid my days of being a spy are over."

Leading her to the couch, he added with a wryly, "Besides, I find it quite ironic that the he of all wizards would believe such lies. He's manipulated the _Daily Prophet _more than once."

She hugged herself as she sat in his cramped living quarters. Perhaps the cold of the dungeons had merely permeated her bare feet, but he rather suspected his ill-conceived laughter had deeply troubled her. He didn't know how to make amends save to apologize, and he had already done that. Silently, he Summoned a blanket to wrap around her.

"Thanks."

"Your nightmare, was it like the one this summer?"

She spoke haltingly to the floor. "Yeah, it felt like I was right there with them, in that same old house. I saw Pettigrew over the newspaper—you know, the one with that horrid story. And, then I . . . he . . . he _Crucioe_d Peter, told him as Potter's friend, he should have known. After . . . Wormtail, he . . . he was on the ground, begging and pleading and telling Vol-Voldemort that you and Mum had been friends in school, that you must have patched things up, and he believed him."

Voldemort, the insufferable, arrogant, paranoid megalomaniac, believed that cowering rat-faced traitor Pettigrew. Why? Had he played his part so well that even the Dark Lord thought him incapable of kindness unless it came chained to familial obligations? Or had the old man been right all along? Perhaps the Dark Lord didn't understand the concept of love at all. Though how that could prove the key to defeating him, Snape would never know.

"Remind me never to subsist on a diet of snake venom. It obviously impairs one's reasoning."

Stealing a glance, her lips twitched into an almost smile. "Probably tastes bad, too."

"No doubt."

They sat together on the sofa for quite a while, too engrossed in their own thoughts to make conversation. After a while, though, Severus realized he had forgotten something very important.

"Rose."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for confiding in me. I did not mean to ridicule your warning."

He received a shrug in reply. "I suppose it does seem a bit silly. I just . . . I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

"You would carry on." Turning towards her, he gazed straight into those green eyes that reminded him so much of his childhood friend. She had to understand, had to accept this one truth, for Lily's sake if not for his. "You might not think it fair. You might not believe you could. But that is what you would do; you would carry on. No histrionics, no rash acts, no futile grand gestures. If I am killed, the Dark Lord will expect such foolishness. You will not allow my death to be in vain."

"Dad . . . ."

"Promise me, Rose. If something happens to me, you will not throw your life away in some suicidal act of retribution. You will run to fight another day. Am I understood?"

"Dad, please—"

Though it pained him to do it, he refused to let her whine, refused to let her beg that he not die at all. He would not make promises he could not keep. Interrupting, he repeated coldly, "Am I understood?"

A solitary tear spilled from the corner of her eye. As it trailed down her cheek, his resolve crumbled. Gently, he wiped it away. "It's alright, Rose. I know. I feel the same. It's alright."

Sniffing back tears, she nodded, her hands clenched around the blanket as if it might be ripped away. "Just . . . don't talk about it, alright? I'm not thick. I know, I know there's a chance that . . . that you could . . . . Just, don't."

"I won't mention it again," he promised quietly before transfiguring the small couch into a cozy bed. Tucked under several blankets, she smiled tiredly.

"Thanks."

Sitting down beside her, Severus pushed a stray tangle away from her eyes. "Well, it was either this, or assign you detention for roaming the halls in the middle of the night."

"I should have brought the cloak."

"When you couldn't remember your slippers?" Seeing the beginnings of a frown, he quickly added, "Don't judge yourself too harshly, Rose. You were understandably distraught. Next time, though, send your Patronus. Hogwarts is not always as safe as it should be."

"Do you think they'll be a next time?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thinking about her visions gave him a headache. "Since I cannot tell you why there was a first time, we must consider the possibility. Perhaps you have some seer in you after all."

"Ugh, I hope not. You're not going to make me take Divination again, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh. Good." She covered her mouth as a huge yawn overtook her. Taking it as his cue to leave, he carefully removed her glasses and placed them on the nearby table.

"Sleep well, Rose."

She murmured something too soft for him to hear. Dousing the light, he retreated to his bedroom. The fact that she had dreamed of the Dark Lord again disturbed him greatly. He did not understand the connection she seemed to share with her would be murderer.

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Severus escorted Rose to the Gryffindor Common Room before dawn the next morning. The teen looked no worse for wear after her vivid nightmare, and mentioned more than once that she hardly needed an escort to find her dormitory. Her protests reassured him like nothing else that she suffered no lingering effects from the disturbing vision.

He walked into the Great Hall hours later knowing breakfast would likely be a strained, awkward affair. A brief glance at the Gryffindor table showed Rose to be sitting between the Weasley twins. The three were involved in an animated discussion with Ronald Weasley and Katie Bell, who sat across from the trio. By the hand gestures and Hermione Granger's lack of interest, he deduced that the topic could only be Quidditch.

Studying the Slytherin table, Snape caught Draco's eye. The cheeky boy held up the newspaper and had the gall to smirk, but then resumed his breakfast before Severus could shoot him a proper glare. No one else dared meet his gaze, even Pansy Parkinson.

"Severus, stop scowling at the students. You'll ruin their breakfast."

Without looking up from the _Daily Prophet_, McGonagall ended her remarks by patting the empty chair next to her. Since the only other available spot sat him next to Sybil Trelawny, the Potions Master docilely obeyed. Until the day before, he'd never been on the receiving end of the witch's legendary temper. This morning, he would do almost anything to avoid a repeat.

Thankfully, Minerva seemed to be in good spirits. She peered intently at him from behind her square spectacles. "I must say, Severus, your coloring has improved remarkably. Rebellion must agree with you."

Well aware that all the other teachers on their end of the table had stopped eating to eavesdrop, he arched his eyebrow. "If that is an inquiry into my health, Minerva, then, yes, I am feeling much more like my old self this morning. "

"Not so much," she replied with a disdainful sniff. "The Severus Snape I knew wouldn't kidnap one of my students without informing me. I think the Phoenix Flu went to your head."

His lips twitched involuntarily at her complaint. After helping himself to some toast, he gave into the strange, reckless feeling that had temporarily taken hold. "The next time I kidnap a student, I shall definitely notify you beforehand."

For a fleeting instant, she smiled, but quickly schooled her expression to one of prim propriety. "See that you do."

Sitting on his other side, the diminutive Charms Professor chuckled. "Minerva won't admit it, Severus, but she was beside herself with worry yesterday. She was afraid you'd taken Rose out of the country, and she'd never see the two of you again. When Albus announced at the staff meeting that you'd taken her to Godric's Hollow, she was the first one to come to your defense."

The stern witch beside him certainly hadn't mentioned that little tidbit the evening before. No, she'd mercilessly harangued him until he'd apologized for taking one of her Gryffindors out of the castle without her knowledge. Then, he'd been subjected to a blistering tirade against the _Daily Prophet_. He'd let her rant for quarter of an hour before he'd interrupted a particularly vicious diatribe against Rita Skeeter to agree with her wholeheartedly. After that, he'd walked away without another word. Frankly, he'd been pleasantly surprised by her banter that morning and refused to say anything that might ruin her good humor. He therefore addressed his grievance to Flitwick instead.

"Tell me, Filius, did I miss anything of import at yesterday's staff meeting? Or was my personal life the only topic of discussion?"

The older wizard colored at his acerbic tone. "Let me see . . . . Dumbledore has suggested October 29th for the first Dueling Club competition. He believes it would give the older students a realistic assessment of their skills."

Leaning over McGonagall, Pomona Sprout said knowingly, "More like discourage the losers from putting their names into the Goblet. I think the Headmaster plans to use the tournament as a means to discover Hogwarts' champion."

"Now, Pomona," McGonagall gently chided, "the Goblet will choose the Hogwarts champion, not Albus. I believe he merely wishes to let the children vent some nervous energy before welcoming the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang the next day."

Severus nearly choked on a bite of toast. If only she knew! For a split second, he considered confiding in her, but too many were privy to Albus' plan already. Instead, he nodded in agreement. "The students should be familiar with proper dueling forms by the end of next month. I've no objection to the date."

When Filius offered to post the notice in the Entrance Hall, Severus picked up another piece of toast and concentrated on his breakfast once more. His fellow professors were going to great lengths not to ask about Rita Skeeter's allegations, but the unspoken questions hung over his head like a dismal fog. While he appreciated their forbearance, he had no desire to linger.

Unfortunately, his desire for a second cup of coffee proved disastrous. As he sipped the dark, bitter roast, owls began to swoop through the Great Hall to deliver the post, as they did every weekday morning. Ordinarily, Severus received one to two deliveries a week. Colleagues sent him questions about Potions research; he subscribed to several Potions journals; occasionally, he even received a personal letter. Today, however, a mass of owls blackened the artificial sky, all swooping down to approach the Head Table, dive-bombing the space in front of him with scores of red envelopes. As he watched the first one open with ill-concealed unease, the angry pile continued to multiply.

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" The first one raved, and he recognized the unmistakable voice of Molly Weasley. The very idea that he had received a Howler from the mollycoddling Weasley matriarch glued him to his seat. "How could you not tell us? I thought you trusted us! How could you just leave your daughter for all those years with those horrid Muggles? Lily would be ashamed! Why would you tell that Skeeter woman and not us? The nerve of that woman! She couldn't even get my name right! It's Molly, not Millie!"

Multiple Howlers drowned out the rest of Molly's overemotional rants. The pile had grown so large that they opened in cacophonous groups rather than one at a time. The individual vitriol combined into a red swarm of hate, and soon drowned out the loudest shouts.

". . . . Despicable bastard . . . . **Death Eater** . . . . **Rapist** . . . . Absolutely no right to raise . . . . How can you live with . . . ? Defiler! You and that whore . . . . Potter should have . . . . Deserved . . . . Sacked . . . . Death Eater scum . . . . **Not fit** . . . . Sins of the . . . . Why would she . . . ? Nothing but a . . . **Harlot** . . . . Cad . . . . Negligent . . . **Abuse** . . . . Coerced . . . . How could you—?"

"_REDUCTO!"_

The horde exploded into a mass of red confetti, leaving the Great Hall eerily silent. Snape turned slowly in his seat to find Alastor Moody holstering his wand.

"Too much damn noise," he explained with an unrepentant scowl. Severus thought he might be trying to smile, but with his scars, it was difficult to tell.

"My apologies," he replied with an arched eyebrow. This time, he knew the retired Auror smiled in response, though it did not enhance his overall appearance. "I shall request that my correspondence be screened from now on."

"Should have done that already." At odds with his friendly demeanor, Moody's gruff growl carried throughout the cavernous room. "Been more than one curse delivered by owl. Dumbledore should think about that before allowing this ridiculous correspondence into the school. Constant vigilance, is what I say, Snape! Constant vigilance!"

Moody immediately took the open seat near Sybil Trelawny and began to pile his plate with food. Low murmurs again filled the dining area as students realized the drama had ended, at least temporarily. The shaken Potions Master looked to the Gryffindor table, but Rose had fled with Granger. The two youngest Weasley children stared at him with something akin to horror, while the twins looked on with amused sympathy. Finding nothing amusing about any of it, he excused himself to retreat into his classroom.

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As Severus picked up his quill to add some final notes to his lesson plan, he tried his best to focus on that day's lessons, but it proved impossible. There were simply too many demanding issues competing for his attention, and his class that morning suffered for it. He stuck to the same lecture on the safe brewing of potions that he'd given for the last thirteen years. The first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws usually took meticulous notes, but the longer he lectured, the less they wrote. Finally, even in his preoccupied state, he noticed that several had begun to doodle on their parchment and something in him snapped. He dropped a heavy Potions textbook on the floor. Half the students startled; a rather excitable young witch from Hufflepuff yelped in surprise.

"Now that I have your attention," he sneered. "You may turn to page fifteen of your textbooks to begin copying the safety procedures necessary for proper brewing. Hand in your parchments at the end of class, and do not ever, ever make the mistake of ignoring one of my lessons again. Tedious as you might find me, I am not Professor Binns. I do not drone on because I like the sound of my voice. Potions is a dangerous subject, and I will teach you to respect it, one way or the other."

The nervous students quickly obeyed, and he spent the rest of the class brooding. As the first years turned in their work, he overheard two Ravenclaw girls whispering that they didn't understand how someone as nice as Rose Potter could have the likes of him as a father. With malicious glee, he assigned them both detentions with Mr. Filch for talking during class.

Convinced he would end up hexing one of his colleagues if he ate lunch in the Great Hall, Severus retreated to the privacy of his office. Before he could call for a house-elf to order a sandwich from the kitchens, he was interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Come in."

He answered pleasantly, hoping Rose stood outside his door. For once, he was not disappointed, although she seemed to radiate fury. She stormed towards his desk with an imposing scowl on her face.

"Have you seen this?" Slapping a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ onto his desk, she sat into the chair across from him, her arms crossed over her chest.

He'd taken great pains not to see that day's version of the libelous rag, but something had obviously upset her. He reluctantly picked up the newspaper to read the headline on the front page.

_**Where has all the Money Gone?**_

_**With No Heir, Potter Fortune Vanishes**_

It took him only a few minutes to read the latest pack of lies. Looking up, he grinned nastily. "I imagine Percy Weasley will be receiving one of his mother's Howlers soon. And, Rita Skeeter showed her ignorance by repeating that tripe about the Potter mansion. Most of the old houses are entailed through the male line. However, as you are the last Potter, your son would inherit the ancestral home."

"But what about the rest of it? Were the Potters truly as wealthy as the Blacks?"

"No one's as wealthy as the Blacks," he answered coolly. Leaning back, he thoughtfully considered the question. It had not occurred to him to think about it before. Last year, he'd bought Rose's clothing and school supplies as well as providing her with pocket money. He considered that to be part of his duties as her guardian. Perhaps he should have asked for her key from Albus as soon as Petunia had signed the papers.

"How many galleons would you say you have in your vault?"

She shrugged. "A good-sized pile. More money than I've ever seen, at any rate."

"Taller than you?"

She appeared startled by the question. "No. I mean, it's plenty enough to get me through school with some left over, but it's not nearly as big as that. Why? Should it be?"

"What types of items were on the shelves?"

Her brow furrowed while her mouth partially opened. It was not an attractive sight, but he wisely held his tongue.

"The vault only contained money and I don't remember shelves. Why? Should there be other things?"

He reread a few sentences from Skeeter's latest fantasy before answering. "Vaults like the Potters generally contain family heirlooms as well as money. James was the sole Potter heir, so those heirlooms should now belong to you. The fact that there were none in the vault is somewhat perplexing."

"I do have the Invisibility Cloak."

"You found that in the vault?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore gave it to me for Christmas my first year here, although I didn't know that until later. He said that he'd been studying it when they died and kept it for me."

Snape couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Although he'd suspected Albus had given Rose the cloak, he had assumed he'd taken it from Godric's Hollow after Lily and James had died. Why would the Headmaster borrow James' Invisibility Cloak knowing the family had been targeted by the Dark Lord? It might have provided a means of escape on that horrible Halloween night. Rose, however, did not appear to have made the same connection.

"I'll speak to Black. As your godfather, he might have information about the Potter finances that I do not. In the meantime, I suggest you ignore this article and all questions relating to it. As in the Muggle world, one's personal finances are not considered a topic for polite conversation. It is entirely appropriate to rebuff all such inquiries."

"I received a letter from him this morning."

"Oh? I can only hope that he reacted better than the wolf."

For the first time since entering his office, she smiled. "He was really nice about it. He said that James and my mum loved me and would want me to be happy. He also said that if he ever sees Rita Skeeter he'll hex her hands off. I guess I should be glad he's taken a holiday."

"It's a shame the Severing Charm has a counter-spell. The idea has merit."

"Dad!"

"I said it had merit, Rose, not that I would use it."

"Well, we could sic Dobby on her like we did Uncle Vernon."

His lips twitched at her suggestion. Come to think of it, the protective house-elf hadn't reported back to him since taking it upon himself to punish that lumping brute of a Muggle. Later, when the gossip had settled a bit, he would consult Rose's strange ally. Perhaps the two of them could come up with appropriate retribution for the infuriating journalist.

"Unfortunately, I don't think the same strategy would work with a witch of Skeeter's cunning. Dobby might very well find himself in trouble with the Ministry."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Growing pensive, she stared at the shelves which lined the back wall. Slowly, her expression clouded until she wore the same scowl that had marred her features when she had first entered his office.

The shelves contained preserved specimens in jars and a few antique Potions ingredients valued solely as curiosities. He also had a smattering of books relating to the history of Potions, but he kept the more interesting titles in his quarters, as she well knew. Nothing should hold her interest for such a long time.

"Rose?"

Giving her head a little shake, her eyes focused on him. "Sorry, just thinking about Percy. I don't understand why he said all those horrid things. Not to be impolite, but he saw my vault the summer after my first year. He knows I've loads more money than his parents. Why make it sound like I'm a pauper? I mean, what's the point?"

"I can't say." When her eyes would have wandered back to his shelves, he added gently, "I am certain the rest of the Weasley clan does not share his resentfulness. Molly and Arthur consider you a part of their family."

Letting out a sigh, the troubled teen fiddled with her charm bracelet. "Yeah, even if Mrs. Weasley thinks I'm a Snape now." She gave him a wan smile. "I reckon my Christmas sweater will be green again this year to match yours."

He widened his eyes in mock horror. "Surely you jest."

Grinning, she drew an imaginary 'S' in the air. "With a big silver 'S' on the front for Severus. I wonder if I could convince her to do a red and gold one for Sirius? Now, that would be a picture for the _Daily Prophet_."

"I shudder at the thought."

More than eager to change the subject, he invited her to eat lunch in his quarters. Agreeing, she spent most of her time talking about the blast-ended skrewts Hagrid had introduced to her Care of Magical Creatures class. Severus had to choke back an expletive when she explained that the skrewts were a cross between a manticore and fire-crab, especially when she assured him that they were quite small and relatively harmless. With such a fierce pedigree, he doubted they would stay that way for long.

"Of course, Draco had to be a git about them. He put on those snotty airs of his and asked who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once. If Hermione hadn't held me back, I would have jinxed him. I don't know why he insists on being so rotten to Hagrid. That hippogriff barely scratched him last year and you would have thought he'd been mortally wounded."

Considering all he'd heard about the skrewts, Snape sympathized with Draco. But he wasn't about to say anything of the sort to Rose. Instead, he made a noncommittal noise which she took for agreement and turned the topic of conversation.

"What are your plans for the afternoon? I would prefer you didn't wander the halls while the rest of your schoolmates are in class."

At this, she rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Dad. Professor McGonagall's already told me that I'm to stay in my dorm or the Common Room unless I clear it with her first. I thought I'd write some letters, actually."

The words spat out of his mouth before he could think. "I forbid you to write to that coward."

She responded just as predictably. Her chin jutted out in defiance while her eyes flashed with fury. "Yeah? Well, thanks for that. If I weren't so angry at Remus I'd write him out of spite. I thought I'd thank Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. Would you like to read my letters beforehand? Or do you trust me enough to not embarrass you?"

"Embarrass me? I'm simply trying to protect you, Rose. That monster doesn't deserve your apologies. Contrary to his opinion, you did nothing wrong."

"He's not a monster!"

Biting his tongue, Severus remained silent, though it pained him to do so. For several long seconds, she did nothing but glare at him. When he finally blinked, she took a deep breath. Her temper seemed to deflate as she let it out.

"Okay, yeah. I know this time it wasn't my fault." Shoving an apple into her book sack, she continued, "But I will forgive Remus if he asks. And, you can't stop me, Dad. You can't lock me up in Gryffindor Tower and pretend I'm Rapunzel. You can't protect me from everything and you know it.

"I know nothing of the sort."

She gripped him in a brief hug. "Yes you do. You simply don't like it. I'd better go. I promised Ron I'd take a look at his Divination homework before he turns it in."

She left before he could think of anything to say. While his N.E.W.T. level students attempted to brew Amortentia that afternoon, his thoughts strayed to Rose time and again. She had been absolutely correct. He knew he couldn't protect her from everything. And, no, he did not like it—not one little bit.


	18. Remedial Potions

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!"

The clatter of wands falling to the stone floor echoed in the Great Hall. Snape coolly surveyed the eighty odd dueling pairs, giving points to those who had done an exceptional job disarming their opponent. Flitwick trailed behind offering practical tips to those who now scrambled to find their wand.

"Again!" Moody commanded as soon as everyone had resumed their positions on the floor.

Severus watched as Rose bowed stiffly to Cedric Diggory, who returned her bow with a flourish. Raising their wands in near perfect sync, each fired the Disarming Spell, though he suspected his ward cast it a millisecond earlier. Both managed to duck out of the way, resulting in an indignant yelp from Cho Chang as she was hit in the back by the Hufflepuff's spell. Diggory gave her a sheepish grin before bowing to Rose once more.

The Dueling Club practiced Disarming Charms for another five rounds before changing partners to practice the Shield Charm. Lloyd Harper had to be sent to Madame Pomfrey after his Disarming Charm rebounded off Seamus Finnegan's Shield Charm with such force that the impact hurled him unconscious to the floor. He certainly wasn't the only one sent to the Hospital Wing during practice. During each session, at least two or three students were sent to Poppy with minor injuries. Over the last two weeks, she'd complained frequently about the increased workload.

Two weeks—Severus thought them the longest two weeks of his life. While Rita Skeeter had finally run out of lies to print, Howlers addressed to him still poured into the castle. Thankfully, Dumbledore now had them automatically sent to a warded room where they could spout their hate to empty air. Even Peeves didn't venture into the Howler room, saying the noise blistered his ears.

As if the newspaper article wasn't bad enough, he'd been forced to listen to Sirius Black's increasingly irrational rants. The Marauder hiding as wolfhound didn't understand the meaning of the word patience. He wanted to hex Skeeter, interrogate Slughorn, thwart Albus' plans for Rose and begin hunting Horcruxes all in one go. Their nightly meetings after curfew had turned into shouting matches, and he feared the mutt soon might take rash action if left to his own devices.

Severus, of course, wished to do all of those things just as swiftly as Black. However, he'd enough experience as a spy to understand the importance of timing. For the moment, Skeeter lay beyond his reach. Slughorn took pains not to see Snape when he visited the castle; it would take a few more weeks of studying the wizard's schedule to arrange a chance meeting. Short of murdering the Headmaster, Rose would likely be entered into the TriWizard tournament, and he wasn't ready to commit murder, at least not yet.

The Horcruxes, however, were another story. Courtesy of Albus, he knew of two probabilities: Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Both were thought to be stolen by a young Tom Riddle during his short tenure as a buyer for Borgin and Burkes. Unfortunately, the hiding places of the two items were unknown. Dumbledore assured him that he had begun to research the matter, but the Headmaster had not made any progress to that end, at least none that he had shared with his Potions Master. If Snape didn't receive any concrete information by Christmas, he'd unleash Black to hunt for the retched items.

"They're making marked improvement, wouldn't you say, Severus?"

He sniffed disdainfully as Neville Longbottom failed to perform the most basic Shield Charm. "Some of them, at any rate." Remedial Potions with Mr. Longbottom had so far been a disaster, but Snape couldn't decide if the young wizard truly had no aptitude or could not overcome three years of being browbeaten by his git of a Potions professor.

The diminutive Charms professor grimaced as the Gryffindor erupted into a mass of boils. "Mr. Finch-Fletchly, kindly refrain from casting a Boil Hex whilst your opponent practices his Shield Charm." He then quickly sent the counter-spell flying towards Neville, who grinned weakly in appreciation.

Walking down the line of combatants, Snape handed out points to Eddie Carmichael, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Ernie Macmillan and Cormac McLaggen. He would have awarded points to Rose for her outstanding Shield Charm, but he let Flitwick do that instead. His fellow teachers had suggested he not award Rose points to avoid any appearance of favoritism, and he had reluctantly agreed. He did, however, praise her for her accomplishment. Beaming, she sent a Disarming Charm hurtling towards Millicent Bullstrode so quickly that the poor girl didn't have time to frown. As Severus helped his Slytherin to her feet, Flitwick gently suggested to Rose that she send a beam of light from her wand the next time instead.

An hour later, the students had advanced to practicing the Trip Jinx and Jelly-Legs Jinx when Moody called for the practice session to end. The three teachers returned the tables to the Great Hall so the house-elves could prepare for dinner. Afterwards, they joined Minerva and Pomona in the teacher's lounge to discuss the day's practice. Talk soon turned to the upcoming dueling competition.

"I've heard a rumor that the Weasley twins are currently favoring Mr. Bole by two to one. Not that I would condone wagering on the outcome," the tartan clad witch added primly.

Severus snorted with derision. "On the basis of his father's reputation, no doubt. Mr. Bole is an adequate duelist, Minerva, but he lacks a certain inventiveness necessary to truly excel at the sport."

"Those two," Moody growled, shaking his head. "They should have joined the club themselves. Together, they'd make a formidable team."

"Oh dear, it is single combat, is it not? I thought we'd all agreed."

Flitwick comfortingly patted the Herbology teacher's arm. "Of course, Pomona, but Alastor is right. Fred and George work better as a team. Perhaps that is why they chose not to join."

"Perhaps." Severus knew the twins were too busy experimenting with various Potions to join the Dueling Club. The week before, they'd asked for a small laboratory in which to brew, and he'd agreed on the condition that they keep him apprised of their work.

Before the conversation could flow to another topic, Moody asked, "So, have you made a decision about the platform yet, Snape? Will the students be given a chance to practice on it before the competition?"

Professor McGonagall sat straighter in her spindly wooden chair. "Of course they will be given the opportunity to practice on the platform. It wouldn't be fair to the Muggle borns otherwise."

"Minerva, I will never understand your insistence on fairness. The world is decidedly not fair."

When Sprout and Flitwick both opened their mouths to protest, the Potions Master added silkily. "However, all members of the club will be given the opportunity to practice on the dueling platform before the competition. Since the surface is slick, it is a matter of safety, not fairness. Filius, perhaps you should review Sticking Charms at some point with your students. I'm sure the more astute of them will think to apply them to their feet."

"An excellent suggestion! In fact, I could tailor some of the N.E.W.T. level Charms curriculum to complement Defense Against the Dark Arts. What do you think, Alastor?"

Severus excused himself before politeness forced him to listen to Flitwick's enthusiastic conversation with Alastor Moody. The ex-Auror had proved to be a decent DADA instructor, but Snape thought he spent too much time on the Unforgivables. One could as easily be killed by a Severing Charm or Entrails-Expelling Curse as the Killing Curse. Moreover, he thought Moody's motto of 'constant vigilance' should be augmented by a few more practical spells. He hoped the Dueling Club would help with that.

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"I don't see why you're so fussed, Snape. I'll host a Halloween party. Old Sluggie's bound to attend. It's just a matter of spiking his drink and getting him into the cellar."

Throwing his eyes heavenward, Severus counted the stars above the Forbidden Forest. "Why is throwing a party the answer to everything with you, Black? I tell you Horace is too cunning to walk into such an obvious trap. Besides, I thought you would wish to be here when Dumbledore announces the Hogwarts Champion."

"I do, but as myself, not Draco's pet. He doesn't need me anymore, Snape. He's managed to beguile all the girls save Parkinson who hit Rose with those Stunners last year. You needn't fear a repeat."

"Please tell me used sweets to charm them. Rose glares at him enough without discovering he's snogged his way through Slytherin House."

Barking with laughter, the mutt ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Merlin, but you're naïve. Most of those girls have done a lot more than snog, but rest assured, Draco's virtue remains intact. Blaise Zabini's on the other hand . . . ."

"Spare me the details. What else have you learned?"

"Parkinson has little power inside the House. She's practically shunned, although I've seen Vincent Crabbe with her a few nights after curfew. Lloyd Harper had some problems at home over the summer. His parents seem to think his sorting into Slytherin reflects an innate lack of morals."

Snorting at the thought, Snape's breath fogged the clear night sky. "Harper's well on his way to becoming a prefect. I trust him more than most of my Slytherins."

"Perhaps you should tell his parents that before his younger sister intentionally misplaces the silver over Christmas holidays. She tried the same trick with her mother's brooch and he ended up sleeping on his stomach for a week."

Snape's eyes narrowed in anger. After his abusive childhood, he firmly opposed corporal punishment. "I will. Anything else?"

Sirius crossed his arms. "Adrian Pucey received a letter from Marcus Flint. And, before you ask, no, I was not able to read it before he burned it."

"I'll look into it," he promised with an audible sigh. Albus should have had the human troll locked in Azkaban and thrown away the key. Nothing good could come of his freedom.

"If it's any consolation, he's still listed as a starter on the Rio team."

"It isn't."

Black laughed again before returning to the topic of Horace Slughorn. "Look, I know Dumbledore tasked you with learning Horace's secrets, but I truly think my plan will work."

"Fine," he spat, tired of arguing. "If I haven't questioned him before then and if he accepts the invitation, you may try on Halloween. Satisfied?" Privately, Snape vowed to do everything within his power to interrogate his former Potions teacher long before Halloween.

"Snape, I haven't had a witch in three weeks. Do you think I'm satisfied?"

His lips twitched as he fought a smirk. Narcissa had Flooed to his quarters the night before. "I've no idea, Black. I don't share your difficulty."

For once, he managed to stun the Marauder, although he had to put up with the mutt's incredulous barking for the entire trek back to the castle.

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"Very good, Mr. Longbottom. Now, if you would carefully add the shredded fluxweed . . . ."

Ensconced in his Potions lab, Severus watched Neville Longbottom attempt to brew the Ageing Solution he had assigned for remedial work. Although the Potion was at a critical juncture, it appeared that the teen finally understood the brewing process. He gave the dark blue sludge a final counter-clockwise turn before picking up the volatile fluxweed.

"That's right. It needs sixty clockwise turns spaced precisely sixty seconds apart. Begin . . . now."

Setting a clock next to Longbottom's cauldron, Snape closely observed the teen's stirring for the first ten minutes before returning to his own work. Essays didn't grade themselves no matter how much he wished they would. He'd just finished marking through a particularly dimwitted one when the door to the Potions lab burst open with a loud bang.

"Severus Snape! This is the last straw! I've admitted Colin Creevey to the Hospital Wing with a concussion and broken kneecap. He claims you gave the Gryffindors permission to use the dueling platform after dinner. How could you be so careless? I'm surprised no one was killed! How could you let them practice on that slick surface without adequate supervision?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Trust the Creevey boy to do something reckless on onyx and marble.

"The Gryffindors were given permission to use the dueling platform with the stipulation that a member of staff be present during their practice. Do you mean to tell me they disobeyed my instructions?"

She gave him a tight-lipped nod.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," he droned as he dipped his quill into red ink.

Unfortunately, his response did not appease the kindhearted but fiercely protective witch. She marched up to his desk to snatch the inkwell away.

"That isn't enough, Severus! Dueling is a dangerous sport. There's a reason it was banned in the first place. I am a Medi-Witch, not a Healer. I have enough on my plate with tending to sick children and countering the odd jinx gone wrong without being forced to piece errant students back together like they were Humpty Dumpty. You must do something, Severus. I am simply stretched too thin to allow this to continue."

"Stretched too thin?" He sneered, hardly believing his ears. "You've dealt with far worse after Quidditch matches, and you know it."

Madame Pomfrey blinked, appeared to lose herself in thought and then blinked again. Rubbing her temple with her free hand, she shrilly replied, "You can argue until your blue in the face, but the fact remains that I am simply stretched too thin to allow this to continue. I insist you disband the Dueling Club immediately."

"Disband?" His lip curled in disdain as he stood across from the abnormally unreasonable witch. He might have exploded in a fit of temper if he hadn't noticed the red ink trailing down her starched white apron like a river of blood. Alarmed, he circled the desk to pluck the inkwell from her left hand.

In a much gentler voice he asked, "Poppy, are you quite alright?"

"I . . . ." She wiped a stray tear from her eye. "I'm simply stretched too thin, Severus. You must disband the club. Please, I'd never forgive myself if one of the students was injured and I lacked the means to heal her."

He would have laughed at her anxiety if she weren't on the brink of tears. Poppy was the best Medi-Witch he'd ever met, better in emergencies than most trained Healers. After almost forty years of successfully treating childhood injuries, how could she possibly question her skills? And why did she keep repeating the same phrase?

Growing suspicious, he carefully made eye contact. He Legilimized her only long enough to determine that no one, including Albus, had tampered with her will. Wherever her anxiety about the Dueling club originated, it was solely her own. Abruptly, the answer popped into his consciousness. Of course, how could he have been so thick?

"This is about Victoria Ashdown, isn't it?"

She let out a strangled sob. After a second's indecision, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Completely forgetting the presence of Neville Longbottom, he sat her in his chair behind his desk and quickly spelled her apron clean of the red stain. Belatedly, he thought to offer her a handkerchief.

"You saved her life, Poppy. If you hadn't found the counter curse, she would have certainly perished. What happened was an aberration, nothing more. I know of no one currently enrolled at Hogwarts who approaches the sadism of Rodolphus LeStrange. It won't happen this time; I assure you."

"How can you say that?" She asked between quiet sniffles. "Look what happened to Rose last year. Her heart stopped, Severus! If it hadn't been for the Potion of Last Resort, we would have lost her. I don't understand why the Parkinson girl wasn't expelled. And then poor Rose nearly ended up in a bed next to Frank and Alice after Peter Pettigrew Cruciated her! How can you tell me someone else won't use the Dueling Club to attack her again? She's been injured so many times. And, those horrible, horrible Muggles!" Unable to go on, she burst into tears.

"What about the Muggles?" Could she possibly remember? Had her concern for Rose broken through the Memory Charm?

Dabbing the corner of her eye with Snape's handkerchief, Poppy took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice sounded more composed, although it warbled at times.

"I know her aunt and uncle weren't kind to her, Severus. She spent every break she could at Hogwarts and begged to remain here during the summers as well. You know the Headmaster, though; he prefers to give people the benefit of the doubt."

Disappointed that she hadn't remembered, but not terribly surprised, Severus deftly steered the conversation back to the Dueling Club.

"Which is why Pansy Parkinson has not been expelled. Albus would like to believe that she did not understand the effect of simultaneous Stunners. While I disagree, the most I can do is isolate her from doing more harm. She has been banned from dueling."

When she continued to look unconvinced, he smoothly added, "However, I certainly understand your concerns. Perhaps you are right to advise caution. If I have a certified Healer present during practices and competitions, would that be acceptable?"

"Oh, Severus! Would you? I can't tell you how much that would mean to me."

Quite unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him to give him a hug. Blushing, she immediately took a step backwards and nervously smoothed down her dress. They were both saved from any awkward explanations, however, when thick, green smoke began billowing from the gawking Gryffindor's cauldron.

"_Evanesco_."

Snape vanished the mess as Poppy did a quick examination of Neville. Satisfied that the boy hadn't been injured, she hastily made her excuses to leave. When Longbottom began to stammer the same, however, the Potions Master gestured towards his desk.

"Sit, Mr. Longbottom."

Gulping, the teen did just that.

I imagine you have questions," he stated without preamble as he towered over the chubby teen with his arms crossed.

"A few, sir."

The boy spoke softly, but without his usual stammering. Coming to a decision, Severus uncrossed his arms and sat across from him. The teen's brow furrowed in puzzlement under his Potion Master's stern gaze.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Ask your questions, Mr. Longbottom."

"Oh, I didn't . . . I mean . . . thank . . . uh, yes, sir." When Snape glowered at him, he shifted uneasily in his chair. "Who's Victoria Ashdown?"

"Victoria Ashdown was a Hufflepuff a year behind me in school. During a practice session of the Dueling Club, Rodolphus Lestrange cast a Blood Draining Curse upon her as her back was turned. She nearly died, although Madame Pomfrey was ultimately able to cure her. Lestrange was expelled, but Victoria emigrated to Australia with her parents shortly afterwards."

Neville's eyes narrowed into a scowl, and Severus added, "I take it you are familiar with the name Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"He's one of the Death Eaters who tortured my parents." Without giving his professor a chance to comment, Neville asked, "Did Peter Pettigrew really Cruciate Rose last year?"

Briefly closing his eyes against the memory, Severus nodded. "He did."

The teen stared at his shoes for almost a minute. "Does she know? About my mum and dad, I mean?"

"Not that I am aware. I must ask, though, Mr. Longbottom, why you choose to keep such information a secret. As I explained before, what happened was in no way their fault."

That defiant spark of bravery he'd been privy to when Neville had argued against the fake Moody's sacking once again lit the young wizard's eyes. "It's not truly a secret, sir. How can it be when the _Daily Prophet_ kept it on its front page for a week? I simply don't go around telling people about it. I don't need anyone's pity. But . . . maybe knowing about them would help Rose."

"Perhaps it would help you both."

The teen nodded in agreement before profusely apologizing for ruining yet another potion. "Could we try the Ageing Potion again next Wednesday?"

Severus stifled a long-suffering sigh. Perhaps if Poppy had not made her unexpected entrance, the boy might have successfully completed the assignment. Unfortunately, Mr. Longbottom's endeavors were often subjected to mishaps and unexpected events, and Severus' patience had begun to wear thin.

Abruptly, it all clicked into place. Leaning forward, Snape smiled. "Mr. Longbottom, how would you like to play a pivotal role in the fight against the remaining Death Eaters?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ah, Severus, come in, my boy. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

Still reeling from what he had learned, Snape snapped, "I could do with a firewhiskey, Albus."

Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles slipped down his nose. "Indeed. Have a seat, Severus."

No sooner had he sat himself in a comfortable chair in the Headmaster's office than an amber bottle and two crystal tumblers appeared on the wooden monstrosity Dumbledore called a desk. Always the consummate host, Albus allowed him to contemplatively sip his firewhiskey without asking a single question.

"A month ago, I suggested to Mr. Longbottom that he request tutoring from Horace Slughorn. The arrangement has been mutually beneficial."

"Yes, so Horace has informed me. I must say that I am proud of you, Severus. It is not easy to admit that some students flourish better under another's instruction."

"My teaching methods are more than adequate." He paused for a moment to rein in his already short temper. "However, that is not what I wish to discuss. An hour ago, I used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Mr. Longbottom. I offered some Veritaserum laced pastilles to my supposed Potions tutor. The greedy lout ate them immediately."

The older wizard's eyes narrowed. "Severus, while I laud your dedication, please tell me that nothing untoward has happened to Neville. I would hate to have Augusta knocking on the gates tomorrow after hearing that you subjected her grandson to a Body Bind Curse."

Snape added another splash of firewhiskey to his glass. "The boy was a willing participant, Albus. It only took one lesson for him to understand why I would wish to speak to Horace in disguise. It seems that my failings are his favorite topics of conversation."

"My apologies, then, dear boy. Do continue."

"The combination of Veritaserum and Legilimancy quickly led me to a very disturbing memory. He did indeed have a conversation with Tom Riddle about Horcruxes. In fact, Tom asked him if a soul divided into seven parts might be the most advantageous because of the number's significance in Arithmacy."

"Seven? You're certain he said seven?"

There was no mistaking the horror or revulsion in his mentor's surprisingly unguarded expression. Snape shared it. He downed the second shot in one go.

"I am certain, but you are welcome to view the memory in a Pensieve."

"Perhaps that would be best."

_Borrowing a set of school robes from the Lost and Found, Snape retreated to the privacy of his office. After a final glance at the Marauder's Map, he downed the Polyjuice Potion that sat uncorked on his desk. It took only a minute for his spine to shrink and his body to fill out. Looking in the mirror, he practiced smiling nervously and studying the ground before donning the smaller robes. Satisfied, he picked up the tin of Veritaserum laced licorice pastilles._

_Severus walked out of the office with his head down and bumped into Rose before taking more than three steps. He managed to remain upright and keep hold of the tin, but she wasn't so fortunate._

"_I'm so sorry, Rose. You're not hurt, are you?"_

_Grinning, she jumped up and quickly dusted off her robes. Snape could see that her palms were scraped, but she quickly hid them behind her back. "I'm fine, Neville. Honestly, I get worse during dueling practice."_

"_Uh huh," he murmured, caught between his desire to check her hands and his need to meet Horace Slughorn for Longbottom's scheduled lesson. Though loath to admit it, the Gryffindor had significantly improved in Potions. He'd also done an excellent job ingratiating himself with his new tutor. From all accounts, Slughorn had been delighted to accept Frank and Alice Longbottom's child for private lessons and found him to be an apt pupil who had unfortunately suffered for years under an insensitive teacher._

"_You okay, Neville? You seem distracted or something."_

"_Yeah, I'm . . . running late for Professor Slughorn's lesson. I should be going."_

"_Oh. I'll catch you later, then."_

_He took off running as soon as she put her hand on the metal doorknob. When she discovered that Neville Longbottom had been inside his Potions Master's empty office, Rose would no doubt pepper him with questions. He simply didn't have the time to answer. __Sure enough, as he turned the corner in the dungeon hallway, he heard her shout the young wizard's name. Luckily, Slughorn's temporary Potions lab was located nearby. As her calls grew louder, he slipped inside the spacious room and firmly shut the door._

_Eyeing his former teacher, he thought that Horace Slughorn hadn't changed much. His substantial paunch reflected a comfortable middle age and was exceeded only by the mass of his ridiculous walrus-like moustache. He and Neville stood at eye level, giving Snape an unobstructed view of the wizard's bald head. _

Looking to the ground, he concentrated on not letting his animosity show. "_Good evening, Professor."_

_Clutching at his waistcoat, Horace jovially replied, "Good evening, Mr. Longbottom. I see you have a most intriguing tin in your hand. That wouldn't happen to be for me, would it?"_

_Merlin, could the man be any more conceited? Really, this was going to be too easy. "Yes, sir. My gran sent it, sir. She said to tell you thank you, for helping me improve so much in Potions, sir."_

_Slughorn looked at him a little oddly; perhaps he'd added one too many sirs to his speech. Still, the arrogant wizard eagerly grabbed the tin. "Licorice pastilles. How delightful that Augusta remembered my fondness for them. Perhaps I shall try one after your lesson."_

_After the lesson? Snape did have time to wait until after the lesson. The Polyjuice wouldn't last that long. Giving the man his most ingratiating smile, he suggested, "Why don't you try them now, sir? It will take me a few minutes to set up my cauldron." _

_Horace hesitated just long enough to make Snape's heart race, but he needn't have worried. By the time he had set up Longbottom's cauldron, the portly wizard had eaten a half dozen of the pastilles, more than enough for the Veritaserum to have an effect._

"_Professor Slughorn, what do you think of Professor Snape?"_

"_That arrogant bat? I think he's the most skilled Potions Master Hogwarts has ever employed, but his character leaves much to be desired. I can't believe Lily Potter would have given him a second look after graduation much less had a child with him."_

_Slughorn clamped a hand over his mouth as he backed towards the door. Unperturbed, Severus bound him to a wooden chair with a flick of his wand. Although the effect was ruined on Neville's ingenuous face, he smirked condescendingly at his former teacher._

"_How nice to hear to hear your true opinion of me, Horace. I wish I could say that I have the same regard for you, but I find your potions skills highly overrated. However, I appreciate your faith in Lily. You're correct, of course. By graduation, I was far too steeped in the Dark Arts for her to associate with me."_

_It was funny, really, to watch the wizard's near hyperventilation._

"_Severus? But how?"_

"_Polyjuice," he drawled. "Perhaps you've heard of it?"_

"_Of course I've heard of it," he sputtered. "I simply didn't think you would be so craven as to use it against me. I'm warning you. Whatever secret you and your Death Eater friends expect to learn, I swear by Merlin I'll take it to my grave!"_

_His lip curled in a sneer. "You play the fool badly, Horace. You always have. The only secret I wish to learn is the one you've kept from Dumbledore."_

_The portly man paled, though his eyes hardened with determination. "Then, I am sorry to disappoint you. I've already told Albus of Tom's interest in creating a Horcrux."_

_The mere fact that the drugged wizard could still carry on a conversation suggested he had developed something of an immunity to Veritaserum. Most likely he regularly dosed himself with trace amounts of the forceful potion, just as Severus did. However, his too frank opinions indicated that the truth serum had greatly affected him. There was only one thing to do._

"_Legilimize."_

_Pushing past Horace's weakened mental defenses, Severus watched with growing disgust as Tom Riddle stroked a much younger Horace Slughorn's ego in order to ease his way into questioning him about Horcruxes. However, when the nascent Dark Lord asked if splitting one's soul into seven would be the most powerful number, he fought the urge to be sick. How could they find and destroy six Horcruxes before the end of the TriWizard Tournament?_

_Repulsed, he staggered backwards as soon as the memory ended. He needed to put some physical distance between himself and what he had seen._

"_You bastard. You've known all along. Lily didn't stand a chance."_

"_It's not my fault," he begged in a broken voice. "It was a hypothetical question, nothing more. Surely even he wouldn't sink to such depravity."_

_Snape suddenly found himself inches from Slughorn. In a dangerous, far too calm voice, he asked, "Shall I tell Rose a hypothesis attacked her in her second year?"_

_Sweat beaded on his bald head. "I . . . Merlin, Snape, I didn't know! I swear I didn't know he would go through with it! Please, you must believe me. I beg your mercy. Severus, please!"_

_Pressing the point of his wand painfully against the man's windpipe, Snape hissed. "Cowards like you don't deserve mercy." He glowered at the cowering wizard until he had regained some measure of control over his temper. Abruptly walking away, he spoke coldly._

"_In a fair world, you would be sent to Azkaban for your silence. Regrettably, life is far from fair. Obliviate."_

_With well-honed precision, he drowned Slughorn's memory of the past quarter hour, leaving him with the false recollection that Neville had set out his cauldron and then taken ill. _

Looking up from the Pensieve, Dumbledore sighed. "Was that really quite necessary, Severus? I'm certain Horace could have been persuaded to give up the memory voluntarily."

"Not to me."

"No, but perhaps to Rose."

A tic under his left eye betrayed his ill-suppressed ire. "Rose, Headmaster? I don't recall that you asked Rose to interrogate Horace. Wouldn't our time be better spent discussing the Horcruxes? Or had you already divined the fact there were six?"

Looking appropriately chastised, Dumbledore returned to the topic of Voldemort's Horcruxes. They spent the next hour theorizing, but made little progress. Leaving the Headmaster's office, Severus pessimistically wondered if emigrating might not be the better option after all.

* * *

**Author's Notes** - Hi! As you've read by now, Neville will play a larger part in this story than he did in The Goblet of Fire. Now that Snape isn't constantly browbeating him, he will be able to gain some confidence earlier than in canon. And, yes, the Horcrux hunt will begin much earlier as well. Whether it will be finished by the end of the TriWizard tournament or even the end of fourth year, well, you'll just have to wait to find out.

Thanks again for everyone who's taken the time to review this story. I really do appreciate it, especially since the update schedule has flown out the window. In the next chapter, the characters had better practice their Sticking Charms for the dueling competition because they'll be attacking each other with more than just Tripping Jinxes. Like the Weasley twins, I'd give odds on the winner, but it would hardly be fair. Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!


	19. Dueling in the Great Hall

Walking the length of the marble and onyx dueling platform, Severus Snape scowled as Ludo Bagman jogged into the Great Hall. The insufferable Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports ignored his frown to wave jauntily. Snape thought the inane smile plastered on his face made the tall, round, rosy cheeked wizard appear even more oafish, but regretfully refrained from his usual stinging remarks.

Much as he hated to acknowledge the fact, he owed the buffoon of a man. The retired Quidditch player had overruled last minute objections to sanction the evening's competition. When Barty Crouch, Sr., Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, had swept into the Headmaster's office two days ago to insist that the dueling competition be cancelled, Bagman had laughed at the suggestion. He'd argued quite effectively that a simple school event could in no way diminish the beginning of the TriWizard Tournament.

During that rather uncomfortable meeting, Severus had wanted to rip Crouch's tidy mustache off his self-righteous face. How dare the man discuss something as trivial as the Dueling Club when his sadist for a son lay locked in a trunk not five feet from where he sat? Not that Crouch could have been aware of that fact, but shouldn't he be more concerned about the escape from his home of a dangerous Death Eater? He'd kept Crouch, Jr. bound by the Imperius for more than a decade. He knew what sort of threat his son posed. But, he'd spent the entire meeting arguing over inconsequential requests by the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

Stepping off the black and white stage, Snape therefore politely addressed the Ministry official without a trace of irritation. "Mr. Bagman, I wasn't aware of a TriWizard meeting today. Has there been another objection raised to the dueling competition? I can assure you, the platform is certified."

Bagman breezily waved his questions away. "Nothing like that, old boy. I simply had some free time on my hands and decided to watch."

He had the gall to pat Snape on the back. The Potions Master stiffened. Few people dared touch him; fewer still got away with it. And in the last twenty years, he'd allowed only one person to refer to him as 'boy'. "I see," he ground out, wishing he could hex the odious man into the ether.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley walked into the Hall. As soon as Bagman noticed their approach, his rosy face turned beet red. "Though I do have some questions for Dumbledore about the TriWizard Cup. I'd best be asking him now rather than later."

With that, he strode hastily towards the doors, his flabby gut heaving with each step. George Weasley temporarily blocked his path, although the onetime Beater didn't stop for long. Severus watched the two exchange a few choice words before Bagman sprinted away.

"Hello, Professor. Do you mind if George and I take a look at the platform?"

"So long as you confine yourselves to looking, Mr. Weasley."

Fred Weasley grinned impudently, and Severus wondered when he had lost the ability to intimidate his students. Ruefully, he thought of the Howler that Molly had sent. After such a dressing down, the cheeky young men likely regarded him as some sort of bumbling uncle.

"No worries, Professor. It's simply an academic exercise."

He arched an eyebrow. If he couldn't intimidate them, perhaps he could still surprise them. "Having difficulty choosing the frontrunners for your dueling pool, gentlemen?"

Unfortunately, neither one appeared shocked that he would mention an illegal betting pool. Fred went so far as to ask if he'd care to place a wager, which he immediately declined. The duo left quickly after that, arguing about the potency of Lee Jordan's Stunners.

Alone once more, Severus reviewed the list of competitors. None of the third years and only five of the fourth years had qualified. After giving advanced lessons during the summer to both Draco and Rose, he had expected to see their names, but Hermione Granger's had been a shock. Though knowledgeable of a wide range of spells, she tended to become flustered the longer the duel lasted. Daphne Greengrass had been another surprise, but he supposed it was to be expected. Her father had won several national competitions in the early 1980s. Blaise Zabini's Shield Charm had withstood assaults from Alastor Moody, earning him a place on his defensive skills alone. It would be interesting to see just how far the five would advance against their older opponents.

"What a magnificent platform!"

Turning around, Severus allowed himself a smile. Mark Wellby strode towards him, his attention fixed on the black and white monstrosity at the front of the Great Hall.

"It meets international standards," he stated proudly as the talented young Healer shook his hand. "I'm pleased to see you, Mark."

"It's good to see you, too, Severus, especially after I heard you'd come down with Phoenix Flu this summer. When you didn't call for your personal physician, I'd wondered if you'd lost faith in me."

The mischievous glint in Wellby's pale green eyes belied his speech. The Potions Master realized the wizard knew exactly why he hadn't consulted him during the summer. "Narcissa spoke to you, didn't she?"

Grinning broadly, the brash wizard ran his fingers through his spiky blonde hair. "I'm afraid I can't comment. Patient confidentiality and all that."

"Of course," he replied blandly as he fought a smirk. His former student's confidence had certainly blossomed in the last few months.

The two spent the next few minutes discussing a few of the safety rules before turning towards more personal topics. The Healer asked about Rose, and Severus happily informed him that she had coped rather well with the stresses created by Rita Skeeter. As he thought of the stresses to come, however, his concern surpassed his optimism.

"Is something troubling you, Severus? I have some time after the competition this evening if you wish to talk."

"I have troubles enough to overflow a trunk." His thoughts turned towards Crouch Jr. and the upcoming TriWizard Tournament. Regretfully, he added, "But there are things I dare not share, even with you, Mark."

Rather than taking offense, the young man appeared thoughtful. "I can only imagine, Professor. Still, if you ever need a discreet ear, I'd be more than willing to listen."

"Thank you," he replied stiffly, rather taken aback by the Healer's sincerity. He wasn't used to his former students treating him with anything other than disdain or fear. Actually, he wasn't used to seeing his former students in positions of authority at all. He must be getting old.

Soon afterwards, Flitwick and Moody sauntered into the Hall with a few last minute issues that required his attention. He barely noticed when the rest of the staff began to trickle in and take their seats, but paused for a moment in his discussion when he saw Narcissa arrive with the Board of Governors. Her appearance at the competition had been expected. The sight of Sirius Black smiling at her side was not.

Supposedly just returned from a lengthy vacation, Black looked tanned and fit as he laughed at one of Alexandria Dippet's rather insipid jokes. Quickly tallying the regents, Snape frowned. Druella Rosier was not in attendance. The old witch had served on the Board of Governors for almost fifty years, but had recently expressed an interest in retiring. If Sirius had managed to talk her out of her seat, then he had accomplished quite a feat. For Rose's sake, Snape hoped it were true. Albus always did have a little too much sway with the Board.

When Molly and Arthur arrived along with Augusta Longbottom, Severus took a closer look at the spectators pouring into the Hall. Amos Diggory and his wife chatted amicably with Mr. and Mrs. Bole. The Zabinis had chosen to attend, as had Lee Jordan's parents. In fact, the Hall overflowed with parents and guests.

"You didn't think the first Hogwarts dueling competition in almost twenty years would go unnoticed, did you, Severus?"

Turning around, he gawked at Dumbledore's leaf-trimmed burgundy robes. "I think, Albus, that too much has been made of it already. Surely, you did not need to invite all these spectators."

The old man's eyes twinkled brightly behind his half-moon spectacles. "Need? Of course there was no need, Severus. However, given the fact that all but the last TriWizard task will be closed to spectators, I thought that Hogwarts could open its doors for such a spirited competition. Who knows? Perhaps the winner will be chosen as Hogwarts TriWizard champion."

The former Death Eater studied his mentor. The wily old wizard exuded such innocent benevolence that he instantly turned defensive.

"I hate to disappoint, Headmaster, but Rose will not win this competition."

Dumbledore appeared bemused as he unwrapped a toffee. "Oh? I was unaware that you had enchanted the platform to exclude Miss Potter from competing."

Gritting his teeth, he glared at the Headmaster's deliberate obtuseness. "As talented as she is, she is still a fourth year, Albus. I assure you; she shall not win."

Smiling, Albus patted him on the shoulder. "I never said she would, my boy, although Minerva seems quite confident. I believe she and Filius have a small wager on the outcome. He seems to think that Mr. Digory will prove victorious."

"That remains to be seen," he answered testily.

Knowing Albus' continued presence would only irritate him further, Severus excused himself to welcome the Board of Governors. Usually, he loathed such niceties, but Narcissa's smile went a long way to turn a tedious chore into a welcome distraction. When the students began to stream in a few minutes later, he politely led them to their seats and then joined his fellow judges at the table in front of the stage.

The first duel pitted Daphne Greengrass against Blaise Zabini. Mr. Zabini chivalrously waited for his opponent to throw the first spell. Miss Greengrass didn't waste time; she sent a Leg-Locker Curse hurtling towards the taller wizard. He easily cast a Shield Charm in time to deflect it. Her beady eyes narrowed in concentration as she cast a Tickling Charm and then quickly followed it up with a Sponge Knees Curse. The dark-skinned wizard sneered as the two spells bounced harmlessly off his strong Shield Charm.

"That's the best you can do, Daph? Are you certain the Hat didn't sort you in Hufflepuff?"

Snarling, she cast a Fog Charm, and the Zabini's side of the platform quickly became enshrouded in thick, gray fog. Before he could react, she sent a Stinging Hex racing towards him.

"Ow!" The angry Slytherin sent a Stunner racing towards his opponent, but Miss Greengrass nimbly jumped out of the way.

Standing on the far edge of the platform, the witch taunted, "Who's the Hufflepuff now, Zabini?"

Flush with the prospect of victory, she failed to take into consideration Blaise Zabini's excellent hearing. Shouting, "Expelliarmus!" he sent a Disarming Charm racing towards her. Greengrass again tried to hop out of the way and misjudged the amount of platform she had underneath her feet. Her arms flailing in circles like a desperate windmill, she toppled backwards off the black onyx to land on the floor of the Great Hall with a loud thud.

An audible gasp swept through the room. The fog that had encased the marble side of the dueling platform immediately disappeared. Healer Wellby raced to the girl's side as Snape pushed back his chair to do the same. Thankfully, Miss Greengrass appeared more embarrassed than injured.

"Sorry, Professor Snape," she called out as she sheepishly rubbed her back. "I guess I was a little overconfident."

After looking to Wellby for confirmation that she'd only hurt her pride, he grinned. "There is no guessing about it, Miss Greengrass. Return to the platform to congratulate Mr. Zabini."

The second match ended even more quickly than the first. Cho Chang sent a large boa constrictor slithering in Angelina Johnson's direction before the Gryffindor could cast a single spell. While she banished it, the Ravenclaw Seeker successfully Stunned her, winning rather decisively. After Wellby revived Miss Johnson, she bowed respectfully to Cho and then ran to the Weasley twins, whose hugs cheered her rather quickly.

Hugh Bole dispatched Hermione Granger so swiftly that Severus wished they hadn't randomly assigned opponents. As he watched Marietta Edgecombe struggle against Cormac McLaggen, he decided that the next dueling competition would be a ranked double elimination tournament, providing Albus would allow another competition in the middle of the TriWizard tournament.

It wasn't until the eighth match that the spectators were finally rewarded with a proper duel. Adrian Pucey and Draco battled for almost twenty minutes before the blond Slytherin managed to get an Incarceration Charm through Pucey's defenses. Mr. Malfoy quickly disarmed his opponent and then asked if he would yield. Having no talent for wandless magic, the older boy nodded sullenly. Winded, Draco's bow was little more than an inclination of his head, but there was no mistaking the proud grin that lit up the boy's face. Even Rose heartily applauded his feat.

Two matches later, Rose faced Roger Davies in what Snape would later call the dirtiest duel of the competition. Intent on winning, the sixth year Ravenclaw skirted disqualification. While it was illegal to use the Blasting Curse against an opponent, he summoned a large glass vase from the back of the Great Hall to send it hurtling towards Rose's feet. She easily dodged the vase, but the impact sent shards flying in all directions. Ripping through her thin trousers, the intentional shrapnel left shiny, dark stains on the black fabric.

Loud boos and hissing erupted in the Hall, but Rose didn't acknowledge it. Neither did Davies. Without pausing, he sent a large ball of ice racing towards her head. Instinctively, she dropped to her knees to land in a pile of sharp crystal fragments. Ignoring her painfully self-inflicted wounds, she yelled, "_Furnunculus_!"

Too intent on watching his own spell, Davies took her hex in the chest. Almost immediately, painful red boils could be seen on his exposed skin. He screamed in rage rather than pain and sent a Stunner flying towards her, but Rose managed to conjure her shield just in time. The powerful spell rebounded only to collide with a second Stupefying Charm. The two collided with a concussive blast, resulting in a wave of energy that knocked both duelists off their feet.

Rose stood immediately, but her hands were now spotted with blood. Several older members of the crowd began to loudly shout, "Bad form!" as the Ravenclaw summoned another vase. Moody had to physically restrain the diminutive Charms professor from stopping the match, something Snape privately wished the Healer would do as a matter of safety.

Wellby, however, seemed unfazed by the tears in Rose's clothes. The young witch appeared equally unconcerned. Frowning in concentration, she cast a Cushioning Charm on the ground in front of her. The vase landed intact inches from her boots to the loud approval of the crowd. Ignoring the cheers, she immediately threw up a Shield Charm to block a Stinging Hex, but missed the Jelly Legs Jinx that followed directly behind it. Again, she fell on the sharp bits of glass.

"_Serpentsortia_!"

A hooded black cobra shot out of Rose's wand. Still unable to stand, she hissed at her weapon of desperation. The hairs on the back of Snape's neck stood on end as the eerie, foreign sounds erupted from her throat. The crowd abruptly went silent at the sight of the athletic Ravenclaw boy cowering in fear as the poisonous snake swiftly slithered towards him.

"I yield!"

With a quiet, "_Finite Incantatum_," Rose shakily got to her feet to accept her opponent's resignation. A tense silence settled in the Hall until someone, most likely Black, loudly began to clap. Soon more people joined in, and the victorious Gryffindor stumbled down the steps amid tepid applause.

Severus couldn't maintain his veneer of impartiality any longer. Ordering Flitwick to introduce the next set of competitors, he rushed to Rose's side. Leaning heavily against him, she hobbled over to the medical aid station, unshed tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out as her legs gave way beneath her. "I know I shouldn't have, but I was so angry about the glass."

"It's alright," he soothed even though he had expressly forbidden her from summoning a snake or using Parseltongue. He'd consider the repercussions of her actions later. Now, his only concern was for her wellbeing.

Seeing the extent of her injuries, the young Healer transfigured the wooden benches that defined his workspace into four solid walls with a curtain drawn over the open doorway. Assured of their privacy, he cut away her trousers.

Severus sucked in a noisy breath. Her knees and shins were speckled with cuts, some quite deep. Rose appeared oblivious, still caught in her guilt.

"I can't believe I did that in front of all those people! It's going to be second year, only worse! They'll be calling me the next Dark Lord in the _Daily Prophet_!"

"Oh, I don't know, Rose; maybe they'll call you the next Morgan le Fay. That has a much better ring to it, don't you think? Besides, I think you've already enchanted about half the boys at Hogwarts anyway."

Wellby's playful tone acted like a slap to her face. Shocked, Rose stared at him for a moment before her cheeks tinged red. A small, disbelieving smile replaced her earlier panic.

"You think some of the boys like me?"

Casting his eyes heavenward, Snape saw that the Great Hall reflected a dazzling, cloudless night. He could hear the shouts of approval from the audience as the next pair took to the platform, but he couldn't get the sight of Rose and the serpent out of his mind. In those few moments when she had spoken Parseltongue, something about her expression had changed. Her bright green eyes had been filled with a dark, malicious joy. He could have sworn she had reveled in Davies' terror. When the boy had yielded, however, that spark of vengeance so foreign on her face had disappeared, replaced so quickly by horror and shame that he still couldn't quite believe he had seen it.

"Professor Snape? Would you mind stepping out for a moment and calling for Madame Pomfrey? I'd like to have an assistant for this bit."

Giving the Healer his full attention, he bit back a curse. When the colliding Stunners had pushed Rose to the floor, she had obviously sat in glass. Without a word, he left the small enclosure to find Poppy.

The school matron let loose a string of colorful curses when he explained why Wellby required her assistance. Striding purposefully into the medical aid station, she bluntly ordered the young Healer to wait outside. Running his fingers through his spiky blond hair, Mark grumbled a little about Healer's oaths and clinical detachment before allowing Poppy to take charge. He waited tolerantly just outside the curtained door with his former Potions teacher and sometimes patient.

A few minutes later, Rose came bounding out, none the worse for wear. Poppy must have fixed her trousers or summoned new ones; the evidence of Roger Davies' attack had completely disappeared. After a quick hug, Rose sprinted towards the empty seat Sirius Black had saved for her. Snape watched as her godfather gave her a one-armed embrace and then handed her one of the bottles of water provided to all the contestants. At least the mutt had the good sense to keep her hydrated.

Thanking both Madame Pomfrey and Healer Wellby for their assistance, Severus returned to his seat at the judges table just in time to watch Lee Jordan hit Charles Warrington with two Stunners. The heavy Slytherin went down with a crash. As soon as Wellby had revived him, he stood on the platform and begrudgingly bowed to the sneering Gryffindor. Snape wondered if the Mr. Jordan had used the duel to settle some sort of score, but quickly put that out of his mind as Cedric Diggory ascended the platform to face Horatio Derrick.

The final duel of the first round lasted an astonishing forty-seven minutes. Diggory certainly had the support of the crowd, but the seventh year Slytherin disdainfully ignored the jeers as he sent spell after spell racing towards the popular Hufflepuff. Had the competition been decided on points alone, Snape would have awarded the round to Mr. Derrick. The formidable competitor kept Mr. Diggory on the defensive for ninety percent of the match. Cedric Diggory, however, proved himself to be the David to the older student's Goliath. Gasping with exertion, he delivered a three-pronged attack that somehow managed to knock Horatio Derrick off his feet. Not content to rest on his laurels, he disarmed the shocked wizard with a rapid, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Mr. Derrick took his defeat more graciously than Snape had expected. In fact, once the formalities had concluded, he walked up to Cedric to shake his hand. Snape watched with pursed lips as Amos Diggory all but snubbed the Slytherin's overture. Thankfully, Horatio had always been thick-skinned and took no outward offense.

The Headmaster congratulated the winners of the first round and then announced a twenty minute break. Hogwarts house-elves had prepared elaborate sweet and savory nibbles for the enjoyment of the crowd, although Severus didn't get a chance to taste any. Margaret Zabini intercepted him as he made his way towards the food tables. Astonishingly, she expressed an interest in negotiating a match between Rose and her grandson Blaise. He had nixed the old crone's offer as tactfully as he could, but it had taken him fifteen minutes to convince her that Rose was far too young to be a candidate for marriage.

"She'll be sixteen in two years, Professor Snape. When I was her age, most witches of good breeding were spoken for by then. You'd do well to remember that."

"I shall," he promised as he struggled to keep his opinions about such an archaic pure-blood custom to himself. Thank Merlin even old wizarding families like the Blacks and Malfoys no longer practiced such barbarism.

His opportunity to socialize with Narcissa and Sirius wasted, Snape irritably took his seat. Scanning the room for Rose, he found her sitting next to Cho Chang as she waited for her next match. Idly rubbing her bare wrist, she smiled briefly when she noticed his scrutiny, but quickly looked away as Cormac McLaggen and Lee Jordan's names were called to begin the second round.

Jordan's Stunners were proving to be a very effective weapon against his opponents. McLaggen only lasted a few minutes before finding himself lying on cold marble. Rose easily beat Blaise Zabini after turning the onyx underneath his feet to ice and hitting him with a Tarantallegra Jinx. The crowd roared with laughter as the hapless Slytherin slipped and slid his way to a resounding defeat. The applause for Rose's victory was much more enthusiastic this time, and Severus could only hope that her use of Parseltongue in the first round would be overshadowed by the excitement of the remaining competition.

Hugh Bole trounced Steven Bradley, a seventh year Ravenclaw, in just under fifty-five seconds. Even Alastor Moody expressed his admiration of the young man's skills, vowing to recruit him into the Auror program. Privately, Snape thought Hugh would be much better suited for a Potions apprenticeship, but he had to agree that the Slytherin was a talented duelist.

Cedric Diggory had a much harder time defeating fellow Hufflepuff Nick Sprightly, but eventually, he prevailed over the older wizard. Mr. Sprightly appeared dazed after being Stunned while under the influence of a particularly nasty Tickling Charm. Competition was temporarily suspended for ten minutes while Wellby escorted him to the Hospital Wing.

When the competition resumed, Cho Chang was no match for Eugene Montague. His mastery of nonverbal spells gave him the advantage, which he exploited ruthlessly. The Ravenclaw Seeker ended up vomiting slugs and as purple tentacles protruded from her face. Even after the match had ended, she continued to cough up the errant slug, but Mark confidently assured the judges that it often took an hour or so for that particular Charm to completely wear off.

Alicia Spinnet proved to be a rather inventive duelist against Draco Malfoy. She combined the Sponge Knees Curse with the Knee Reversal Hex to make the Slytherin sway like a reed in a stiff breeze. However, she never expected Draco to cast a Leg Locker Curse on himself, rendering her spells irrelevant. The talented wizard finished the duel frozen to one spot. Demonstrating his own inventiveness, he transfigured Miss Spinnet's tongue into a rhinoceros horn. The poor girl suddenly found herself mute as her jaw locked in order to accommodate such a large object in her mouth. As soon as the spell ended, she knelt on the platform, gasping for air.

Flitwick and Moody shared a chuckle as Albus declared another break. Determined to speak to Narcissa this time, Severus pretended not to hear Molly Weasley's shrill shout of his name. Finally reaching his target, Narcissa rewarded him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"The dueling competition is wonderfully exciting, Severus. You and your fellow teachers are to be commended."

"Or committed," Sirius joked as Severus' eyes lit with pleasure at his lover's praise. "I mean, seriously, Snape, I'm surprised Hermione Granger wasn't transfigured into an ape. She completely lost her concentration when Mr. Bole turned her shoes into banana peels."

He sneered at his friend's choice of words. "Serious, Black? Your cousin just transfigured Alicia Spinnet's tongue into a rhinoceros horn and you have the gall to complain about a few banana peels?"

"It was quite clever." Narcissa smiled indulgently as she watched Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle hand her son a plate piled high with fruit tarts. As her brow creased, however, that smile turned to a thoughtful frown. "I do hope Rose and Draco aren't paired in the next round."

"That could be exceedingly awkward," Sirius allowed as he motioned for the witch in question to join them.

Shadowed by Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, Rose nudged her way between Sirius and Severus. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she ardently discussed her chances of making it to the final round.

"I hope I won't duel against Draco this time, Cissy. He deserves a chance to be in the finals as well. I'd like to be paired with Cedric Diggory, actually. He doesn't use as many nonverbal spells as Hugh Bole, although, Bole has his own weaknesses. He's my second choice. Not, that I don't think I can beat all of them, but Montague—"

Sirius stopped her breathless monologue by handing her another bottle of water. "Hey, slow down there, speedy, or you'll run out of energy before the next match."

Rose drank with gusto, wiping a few drops of water away from her chin with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Sirius!" Jogging in place, she squeezed Snape's arm. "I'd better go, Dad. Wouldn't want anyone to think you're giving me special treatment. See you later, Cissy!"

Before anyone could tell her good luck, she called excitedly to Molly and Arthur and jogged away. Ron ran to catch up, but the bushy-haired Gryffindor hesitated. "She's really excited." Chewing on her bottom lip, she added with apologetic glances at all three. "She's usually much calmer than this."

"She has every right to be," Narcissa reassured the teen. "Rose has performed remarkably well for her age, as have you. It was quite an achievement for you to qualify in your fourth year."

"Thank you, Cissy. That's kind of you to say. I'd better be off. I promised Colin Creevey I'd help him take some photos. He's hoping if they're good enough, Professor Dumbledore will grant permission to publish a school newspaper."

Several members of the Board of Governors, who had obviously been eavesdropping on the conversation, expressed support for such an idea. Severus excused himself when Narcissa offered to personally fund such an endeavor. While he believed some of the students could benefit from an introduction to proper journalism, he had no desire to be roped into sponsoring yet another club.

Most people returned to their seats several minutes before the end of the break in anticipation of the upcoming matches. In a random draw, Hugh Bole and Eugene Montague were chosen to duel first. Flashes of light and the crackle of electricity collided in concussive booms in the middle of the platform as opposing wizards cast spell after spell. The crowd watched in silent awe as Mr. Bole methodically constructed an impenetrable wall of crystal in the half-seconds between attacks. Eventually, the wall blocked Montague's spells. The entire Hall witnessed his frustration as Mr. Bole slowly but relentlessly pushed the gleaming yellow crystal to the edge of the platform, forcing his opponent to the ground.

Amid the cheers for Mr. Bole's feat, Flitwick drew Rose's name for the next match along with Lee Jordan's. When he announced the names, however, only Mr. Jordan stepped forward. A rumble swept through the Hall when Rose failed to appear.

"She's in the lav," Hermione Granger whispered in his ear.

Taken aback, Snape's eyes snapped to Rose's best friend, who shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, clearly uneasy to have been the messenger of such ill-timed news. Boring into her eyes, he saw nothing amiss, and dismissed the bushy-haired witch with a curt nod.

As per the traditional rules of dueling, Flitwick loudly announced Rose's name for a second time, and for a second time, she failed to appear. Should she miss the third call, Lee Jordan would be declared winner by forfeit, a less than satisfactory end for all involved.

"Rose Potter!"

"Here!" came a shout from the back of the Hall. As everyone swiveled in her direction, Rose ran flat out to take her place on the platform. She tripped up the stairs, but managed to catch herself before falling face first on the hard stone surface. Several in the crowd sniggered and jeered at her clumsiness. Unusually affected by the taunts, she paced her side of the platform as wrung her hands. Professor Flitwick had to clear his throat several times before she remembered the reason she stood on the platform in the first place. Severus didn't understand why she had suddenly suffered an attack of nerves, but hoped she could overcome her anxiety before Mr. Jordan sent multiple Stunners flying in her direction.

No sooner had the two bowed to each other than spells began to fly. Rose's attacks, while quick, were quite erratic. She missed several opportunities to land a hex because of poor aim. At least she cast strong Shield Charms; although the longer the duel lasted, the more her attention wandered. Breathing heavily, she just managed to deflect a Trip Jinx when she staggered backwards.

Something had hit her, but the effect didn't become apparent until she tried to cast her next spell. No matter how hard she tried, her mouth wouldn't open. Snape thought it quite clever and especially effective on someone who hadn't mastered nonverbal spells. The inability to speak, however, seemed to push Rose into something of a panic. Although she successfully dodged several jets of red light that zipped towards her, she clawed at her lips as she desperately attempted to overcome the spell's effects. Trembling as she drew rapid, shallow breaths into her lungs, she stood still as she tried to forcibly pry her mouth open.

The two Stunners hit her directly in the chest. Severus saw her eyes widen in fear before she crumpled to the ground. Flashing back to that horrible day on the Quidditch pitch, he ran to her side, not caring in the least that his position as a judge called for complete impartiality.

Hovering over her as Mark checked her pulse, he watched the young wizard's face become an impassive mask.

"What?" he demanded, but the Healer revived her without a word. She sat up like a Dementor pursued her to immediately clutch her head. Ignoring Wellby's quiet warning to take it easy, she returned to the platform to bow to the victor. Rose stumbled as she straightened, going down onto her hands and knees. Even the most obtuse in the crowd could see that something was wrong, and the mutterings grew.

Glaring at them all, she walked down the small set of stairs to the floor of the Great Hall. By the time she returned to the judges table, her hands visibly shook and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, but all the color seemed to have leeched from her neck. Fearing she might fall over, Severus put his arms on her shoulders to steady her.

"No worries," she snapped, but contradicted herself when she doubled over and let out a gasp of pain. Still, she wouldn't let Severus help her, but leaned heavily against the wooden table as she tried in vain to catch her breath. The mutterings of the crowd swelled to thundering rumbles as idle speculation ripped through the Hall. Mark Wellby used the noise and the girl's hatred of notoriety to his advantage.

"Why don't I make sure of that in the Hospital Wing, Rose? I know you don't wish to be on the front page of the _Daily Prophet _tomorrow."

The mere thought of another _Daily Prophet_ debacle had her clutching her arm where her bracelet normally would be. She did, however, allow the Healer to lead her from the Hall. Severus immediately followed, but Dumbledore stood in his path, his eyes lacking their usual mirth.

"I'll go with her, my boy. I promise to inform you of the results the moment Wellby finishes his examination. It's most likely a simple case of exhaustion, Severus. You wouldn't wish to add to speculation that it's something more serious by your absence. We both know how dangerous such gossip could be.

"The moment he discovers anything," he warned as he fought the racing of his heart.

"I give you my word."

Knowing he could do nothing else, Severus returned to the judge's table. He didn't know who the old man was trying to fool, but no one else considered what they had witnessed to be a simple case of exhaustion. Alastor Moody went so far as to suggest they cancel the remainder of the competition, but even he didn't see the point.

Severus could feel the tension in the room as Draco and Cedric Diggory's names were called. Draco's pale complexion appeared ghostlike against the white marble. Clutching his wand tightly in his hand, he bowed to the popular Hufflepuff. The Malfoy heir sent spell after spell hurtling towards his target without pause. The force with which he cast the hexes and jinxes astonished the crowd, but not Severus. He knew the boy's talent for dueling had ruthlessly been honed at a young age by his father, but to see the son battle in such a similar style disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

Draco's performance in the round suggested a highly controlled rage and a reckless disregard for his own safety, which Cedric quickly exploited. The Hufflepuff attacked with a ball of electricity that split into five fragments as it approached Draco. Intent on his own attack, he failed to protect himself against two of the pieces, which knocked him on his back. A shout of "_Aguamenti_," added insult to injury; the dripping wet Slytherin slowly got to his feet.

Bowing, Draco ignored Diggory's offer to shake his hand. Instead, he hopped off the platform to stalk out of the Hall. He left amid boos and taunts about poor losers, but Severus suspected he would make a beeline for the Hospital Wing. Though Rose still considered him an arrogant git, Snape knew how much the proud young man cared for his ward. He only wished he could follow.

The rest of the competition passed in a haze. Severus wished for a break, but there wasn't one this late in the competition. Since Hugh Bole had scored the most points of the three remaining competitors, Lee Jordan and Cedric Diggory dueled for the right to challenge him. After what seemed like hours, Diggory bound Jordan in tough vine ropes and then disarmed him. The spectators in the Great Hall cheered heartily for both contestants, and then most of the students barring his Slytherins began to chant the Hufflepuffs name.

As Filius tried to calm the crowd, Draco quietly knelt beside Snape. "I overheard Healer Wellby say that Rose has an irregular heartbeat."

Snape's quill snapped in his hand. "You are certain?"

"I swear by my mother's—"

Severus painfully clamped his hand over the boy's mouth. "You are picking up Rose's bad habits. You know better than to swear an oath like that."

Moody, who had been listening to the exchange, leaned towards him. The retired Auror's magical eye scanned the crowd as he spoke. "I don't like this, Snape. That Healer assured us Rose's heart could take a few Stunners. I think you'd best get to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall can take your place."

He didn't argue. Instead, he strode purposefully towards the doors of the Great Hall, neither looking left or right. No one, not even Sirius, dared question him. As soon as he reached the deserted corridors, his calm demeanor cracked and he broke into a run. Reaching his destination, he discovered Rose tucked under a blanket in one of the metal beds. Her eyes closed, she looked to be asleep except for her too rapid breaths.

Neither the Headmaster nor the Healer appeared surprised to see him, although Albus gently berated him for leaving his post. The admonishment was easy to ignore as he reached out to put his hand on Rose's flushed cheek.

"She's fevered. Why would Stunners cause a fever? Jordan's spell, was it some sort of Curse?"

Without meeting Severus' gaze, Dumbledore addressed the young Healer. "I'll leave this to you. Someone should assure the crowd that Miss Potter is simply exhausted."

Before he could comment on the blatant lie, Albus had left. Turning to Wellby, he despaired to see the man's mouth set in a grim frown.

"I'll have Jordan in detention for the rest of his life if he subjected Rose to an experimental spell."

"It wasn't the spell," Mark stated impatiently.

His mind racing, Severus jumped to another explanation. "An obscure Curse, then? She could have been hit anytime during the duel. I can Floo to Malfoy Manor immediately to consult the library."

Wellby grabbed at his blond hair, tugging it by the roots. "Severus, for Merlin's sake, listen for a minute! Rose wasn't cursed. Narcissa contracted Bole Security to place three private Aurors in the crowd. They reported no spells cast except by the duelists. I believe she was poisoned, and I've no idea of the antidote!"

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**Author's Notes** - Hi there! As usual, I want to thank everyone for their patience between updates. I'm not at all certain about this chapter. It's very difficult to squeeze the visual excitement of multiple wizards' duels into the printed word, so I apologize if this chapter falls below standards. Yes, I know; I ended on a cliffhanger, but it had to be cut somewhere. I wouldn't be too worried about Rose since her guardian happens to be a talented Potions Master. If anyone can figure out her strange and troubling symptoms, he can. The next chapter should welcome the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to Hogwarts. Until, then I thank everyone who has been kind enough to give me feedback on my story! I really do appreciate your reviews.


	20. Moste Potente Potions

**Author's Notes** - Hi! I was so happy to hear that the duels in the last chapter were entertaining because they took far too long to write. Now, I think it might have been worth the time. No duels in this chapter, so it didn't take quite so long for an update. (Actually, if my son hadn't borrowed my computer this weekend for a Skype party with his friends, I would have updated on Saturday, but that's a completely different story.)

After reviewing some of the earlier chapters, I decided to inject some of Rose's point of view again. Let me know if you think it works or if it was an annoyance. Snape gets to show off his skills as a Potions Master in this chapter, although by the end of it, he might just consider himself a failure. As always, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback and encouragement. Hope you enjoy!

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_Wellby tugged at his spiky blond hair. "Severus, for Merlin's sake, listen! Rose wasn't cursed. Narcissa contracted with Bole Security to place three private Aurors in the crowd. They reported no spells cast except by the duelists. I believe she was poisoned and I've no idea of the antidote!"_

"Get a hold of yourself, Mr. Wellby. This is not the time for childish histrionics."

Even as he berated the young man, Severus felt a surreal calm settle over him. For once, his service to the Dark Lord would be of benefit. He'd researched hundreds of potions meant for harm during his days as a Death Eater. To his shame, he had brewed almost half of them, although he'd deliberately diluted many of them to diminish their effects.

Sitting beside Rose, he carefully pried open her mouth and sniffed. Her breath lacked any distinctive odors. Immediately, he excluded the Death by Chocolate Elixir, Horrendous Honey Potion, Curried Cobra Cordial, Pernicious Pear Potion, Agonizing Almond Aromatic, and the rest of the two dozen or so deadly potions that mimicked the taste and smell of various foods.

Putting his hand to her forehead, he checked her temperature. The fever wasn't high enough to have come from any lethal concoction incorporating ashwinder eggs, armadillo bile, fire slug mucous or snake venom. However, the slight fever and her erratic pulse did eliminate an overdose of the Draught of Living Death and all others meant to depress the function of vital organs. Pressing on her fingernails, he noted her circulation hadn't been affected. Without looking up, he addressed the Healer.

"I take it you've used a bezoar?"

"As soon as I realized her heart rate had been affected. Her symptoms remain the same."

"And, what, exactly, are her symptoms?"

He turned to study the young wizard. Wellby had regained much of his composure, although he still paced the narrow aisles around Rose's bed. At least this time, he appeared thoughtful rather than panicked.

"She was . . . frightened . . . and nervous. Coupled with the shallow breathing and rapid heartbeat, I thought at first she might be suffering from a simple anxiety attack, but she also showed signs of confusion. She complained of nausea and excessive urination. In fact, she's borderline dehydrated. If I hadn't Stunned her, she would have hyperventilated."

He'd Stunned her. A tic appeared underneath his left eye. As a Potions Master, Snape knew enough about the Healing Arts to understand why victims of unknown potions were Stunned rather than given a Sleeping Draught. Yet the thought of Rose being subjected to another Stupefying Charm sickened him, no matter how irrational the fear.

Putting two fingers against the pulse point of her neck, he felt her racing, erratic heartbeat for himself. He began to form a hypothesis, one he didn't particularly like. He knew of no potion that killed in a manner consistent with her symptoms. Most slowed respiration and heart rate to the point of stopping, while the more malicious ones caused unimaginable agonies as they ravaged the body. He did, however, know of several potions to cause psychosis that mirrored most of her symptoms. There really was only one way to find out.

"_Rennervate_."

She shot out of the bed before he could react, her eyes darting in every direction. As soon as she saw him, she let out a terrified squeak. "Professor Snape! It's Quirrel! He's after the Stone! Please, you have to believe me!"

Disappointment crushed his chest. Though she didn't appear to be violent, Rose definitely suffered from some sort of psychosis. Bargaining with unnamed deities, he prayed it wasn't already too late. Never taking his gaze from the witch's wild, frightened eyes, he slowly approached. She looked to be in a state of panic, and he could sense Wellby's disapproval from across the room. Yet the Healer didn't interfere as Snape touched Rose's shoulder.

"I do believe you, Rose. The Dark Lord had taken possession, and you were injured when you defeated him. That occurred during your first year here. Do you remember?"

"I . . . ." She clutched the bedpost as her knees gave way. "I don't feel so good, Professor."

"No, I should think not," he stated gravely. At least she hadn't completely broken from reality. She still recognized him, still remembered Hogwarts even if she did appear confused. Perhaps if he discovered the antidote soon, there might be chance of recovery.

"I'm about to—" Rose vomited onto the floor. Supporting her underneath her armpits, he could feel her entire body tremble.

"Severus, she needs to be Stunned before she goes into magical shock."

For the first time since being revived, Rose noticed the blond man. "Healer Wellby? What are you doing here?"

With a flick of his wand, the Healer Vanished the mess on the floor before glancing at the Potions Master. "It's for her own protection, Severus. You know the Potion of Last Resort only works once."

As Rose shuddered against him, he hesitated. He had to understand her symptoms or he wouldn't be able to help her. If the effects of the potion were meant to be permanent, a Stupefying Charm would only delay the inevitable. Knowing he would never forgive himself if his decision led to her death, he sat her on the bed.

Tenderly cupping her face, he hoped he hadn't just signed her death warrant. "Rose, I must enter your mind in order to see what ails you. You must remain calm. Can you do that for me?"

Her eyes widened with fright as she yanked her head away from his gentle grasp. Scuttling to the foot of the bed, she cowered at the sight of him. "Don't touch me! You're not Snape. I know better. He may be a horrid bat, but he wouldn't touch me like that. Or call me Rose. Just . . . stay away from me, please!

A pressure built behind his eyes. He would not cry! Not now, not when every second counted. Embracing his most arrogant sneer, he spoke as harshly as he could manage. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lack of gratitude, Miss Potter. I'll have you know that I must maintain eye contact in order to assess your mental state. Now, quit acting like a complete dunderhead and allow me to complete this odious task."

A true Gryffindor, he thought poignantly when she forced herself to stare into the forbidding depths of his pain-filled eyes. Her breath hitched, and he slipped easily into her mind. With a haste he cursed, Severus tore through her memories. They were a jumbled, chaotic mess, but he somehow found the relevant ones. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, something he would discuss with her if—when—she recovered. Barring a wound too small for the eye to see, all evidence pointed to the water she'd drunk during the competition as the source of the potion.

Severus broke eye contact. Justifiably traumatized by the experience, Rose clutched her arms around her stomach, rocking to the sound of her rapid breaths. He knew she was moments away from hyperventilating, but he had to be thorough. Her life depended on it.

"Miss Potter, you have consumed a toxic potion. You must describe your symptoms to help us discover the antidote."

For a moment, he feared her too far gone. Finally, though, her eyes lost their terrifying spark of madness.

"I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin. Is that possible, Professor? I mean, 'cause I'm a witch and all. I don't want to jump out of my skin. It's dangerous without your skin. Dangerous all around, really, but without your skin, it could be incredibly bad."

She stared at her hand like it belonged to someone else. "I'm shaking. I'm actually shaking. I . . . ." In her fright, she lost her breath.

"_Stupefy_."

He glared at Wellby, but the young man's confidence had returned full force. "I did what I had to do, Severus. You're not the only one trying to save her."

He chose not to respond. Of course the dratted Healer was correct, but he felt the weight of his responsibility all too keenly. Loudly, he called for a house-elf.

A rather feminine house-elf dressed in a floral tea towel appeared with a loud crack. "Master Snape is needing Flitty, sir?"

"Yes," he answered with an edge to his voice. Of course he needed the annoying creature. Why else would he have called for her? "I want you to retrieve the two bottles of water Rose Potter drank from during the dueling competition and bring them to me."

The elf's already large eyes grew as big as saucers. She wrung her hands in a nervous manner, much like Rose did with her charm bracelet. And, when she answered, she stammered in frightened squeaks.

"Bitty is a Hog-hogwart's elf, Ma-Master Snape, sir. Bitty c-can't be retrieving b-bottles like you ask, sir."

Perhaps it was the stutter, or perhaps his fear for Rose finally pushed him into a rage, but he snarled at the unfortunate creature, forgetting for a moment a house-elf's penchant for punishing itself when faced with an angry master. Flitty began to beat her head against the wall.

"Stop that this instant!" he thundered, hating himself and the hapless house-elf in that moment. "If you can't perform the task, then you are dismissed."

Trembling as much as Rose, the house-elf vanished with a loud crack. Before the Healer could make a sound, Snape curtly announced that he needed to speak to Sirius Black. Looking as grim as anyone had ever seen him, he swept out of the Hospital Wing, his severe, dark robes billowing behind him.

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Sitting in his Potions Lab, Severus poured the dregs from Rose's water bottles into a small silver cauldron filled with purple liquid. Although the bottles had already disappeared into the kitchens by the time he had reached the Great Hall, Black's house-elf had been able to do what the other one could not. As Sirius' goddaughter, Rose came under his direct protection, which had enabled a very reluctant Kreacher to identify the specific bottles from which she had drunk.

The little known ability harkened back to the Dark Ages when poisonings had been much more frequent. In fact, if he hadn't done so much research for the Dark Lord, he would have never come across the obscure reference in a moldy piece of parchment tucked inside a crumbling, ancient book of magical herbs and their properties. He had dismissed the ability as pretentious pureblood paranoia. Now, he wondered what other magics the strange creatures the wizarding world had enslaved might possess.

As the contents of the cauldron bubbled, he forgot all about the subject of house-elf magic. Instead, he carefully notated the reactions as the Clarifying Potion mixed with the adulterated water. At first, it popped and crackled, erupting with bright green sparks. Then, it foamed, threatening to overflow its container. Severus gave it two quick clockwise stirs with a glass rod, which dissolved the foam and turned the contents of the cauldron into a thick yellow sludge.

"Shite."

He didn't need to consult the illustrated table of reactions to understand the results. The thick yellow sludge of the final solution pointed to a Bolstering Brew. The colorless, odorless and tasteless potion existed solely to enhance the effects of others. Unfortunately, he had no idea what the first potion might be. He pulled out Agathodaimon's treatise on poisons, hoping the ancient alchemist could shed some light on the reaction. After four hours of fruitless research, Severus remained as ignorant as he had been when the green sparks had shot out of the silver cauldron.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd failed before, but the tight knot of dread in his stomach rivaled the one he'd developed when he'd first realized that his actions as a Death Eater had put Lily's life in danger. Worse actually—at least with Lily, Dumbledore had given him reason to hope, false as it had proven to be. Now, he had to return to the Hospital Wing with the ghastly news that nothing further could be done. As he trudged up the stairs, he'd never felt failure quite so keenly.

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"Rosie's a tough little witch. She'll be fine, Snape. You'll see."

Fists clenched, he fought the urge to punch Sirius Black in the jaw. It was one thing to be hopeful, quite another to be so bloody sanguine. He ignored the Marauder's frivolous platitudes to watch Wellby take out his wand to revive Rose.

Before casting the spell, Mark turned to the half dozen people clustered around the Stunned witch's bed "I still think it's best this be done without an audience. Depending on the severity of her confusion, the presence of so many faces might do more harm than good."

"Our presence is equally as likely to do more good than harm, Healer Wellby. Perhaps you should revive Miss Potter so we may test your hypothesis."

Snape glared at the Headmaster, although he doubted Albus noticed. The powerful wizard had engaged in a staring match with the talented Ravenclaw Healer. Severus wasn't surprised when Mark blinked first. His manner stiff, he cast, "_Rennervate._"

Waking, Rose sprang to her feet. Immediately, she backed away from the anxious adults surrounding her. Severus saw the growing fear in her eyes as she went for her wand and realized the loose cotton pajamas she wore lacked pockets. Her eyes darted about the room, belatedly taking in the features of the faces that crowded in a bunch.

"What's he doing here?" she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Sirius.

Black's smug optimism vanished at her tirade, but his usual impetuousness did not. Instead of hanging back, he rushed forward, clasping Rose into a hug before she could escape.

"You do recognize me, don't you, Rosie? I'm your godfather."

Struggling to free herself from his grip, she shouted defiantly. "I recognize you, alright. You're the coward who betrayed my parents to Voldemort. What I don't know is why Professor Dumbledore hasn't had you Kissed. Or have you put everyone under a spell?" Noticing Narcissa for the first time, she added in the same breath, "And what's **she** doing here? She's as bad as her husband! You two working together, Black? Or did Malfoy fall off his broom and cry Mummy?"

Nacissa paled at Rose's insults as if the teen's words had been imbued with the force of a hex. Poor Rose—he knew she would hate having caused Cissy pain if she ever remembered. He reassuringly squeezed Narcissa's hand, although he wasn't entirely sure what reassurance he could offer.

When Albus calmly addressed the confounded teen, he felt a twinge of hope. Rose had always looked up to the Headmaster. Perhaps he would be able to make her understand. "I'm afraid, Miss Potter, that it is you who are under a spell. Or more specifically, a potion. You seem to have forgotten much of the past few years."

Dumbledore's answer seemed to take the fight out of her. Although her eyes still darted about, she no longer fought against Sirius. Instead, she threw a murderous glance at the man she now called father.

"I bet I can guess who gave it to me, can't I Snape? Merlin, I knew you hated me, but I never thought you'd stoop so low as to poison me. So, why isn't he in Azkaban, Professor?"

Severus saw his mentor hesitate, and he wondered for a second if the old coot had decided to throw him under the Knight Bus. In her current state, Rose would believe anything Albus chose to tell her. With a few twisted truths, the Headmaster could sever the close relationship that had developed between them. He'd never hear her call him Dad again.

Before Albus could reply, however, Wellby loudly interrupted. "Clear the room. Now. I would definitely classify this situation as doing more harm than good, Headmaster. As Rose's personal Healer, I insist everyone but Professor Snape leave. I shall send a message when she is composed enough to have visitors."

Rose vehemently protested that she didn't have a personal Healer. When she saw the Headmaster leading the others out of the warded room, she chased after Dumbledore, tugging harshly on his robes when he would have left without speaking.

"You can't just leave me here with a stranger and a Death Eater, Professor! I don't even have my wand! How am I supposed to protect myself without my wand?"

His eyes met Snape's for a moment, and then he smiled sadly. The Potions Master wished Legilimency worked at such a distance because he truly wondered at Dumbledore's subdued nature. It wasn't like him to be so reserved, even in such difficult circumstances.

"I can assure you, Miss Potter, that Professor Snape and Healer Wellby have your best interests at heart. They are not the reason you are unwell. I ask that you show them the same respect that you would Madam Pomfrey."

She clawed at Albus' robes, planting her feet on the hard tile in such a way that he was forced to drag her. "I promise I'll behave if you leave me with Madam Pomfrey. I won't make trouble, Professor; you know that! I don't want to be punished! Please, Professor Dumbledore, sir, I'll give you my father's cloak! And my picture album! Please, don't leave me here without my wand!"

As soon as the Headmaster crossed the threshold of the privacy curtains, she received a jolt strong enough to dislodge her fingers from his robes. As he looked on from the main portion of the Hospital Wing, Rose curled into a ball and began to sob. Not taking his eyes off of her, he said quietly, "I'm sorry for doubting you, Severus." And, then he was gone, taking the others with him.

As shuddering sobs racked Rose's body, Snape thought he'd descended into hell. It didn't help any when Wellby turned to him and said, "Now what?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Close your eyes, Rose."

"Blast it, Snape, I've told you a million times I'm not tired. There's no point."

With the patience of a saint (or perhaps merely a flobberworm) Severus countered, "You need to sleep, Miss Potter. And, unless you are a fish, you cannot sleep with your eyes open. Close them."

"Fine," she huffed, squeezing her eyes shut.

He didn't smile until her eyes closed. After an hour of helplessly listening to her cry, then hours more trying to reason with her, he and Mark had finally convinced a confused and suspicious Rose that they meant no harm. And, just in the nick of time. Her numerous trips to the toilet coupled with frequent bouts of vomiting had severely dehydrated her. After an entire night of cajoling, she had consented to drink a glass of watered down juice as daylight dawned through the white curtains. More importantly, she had kept it down.

When Wellby took her pulse, she flinched, but it was a sign of significant progress that she didn't open her eyes. Wordlessly, the Healer shook his head, indicating to Severus that her pulse rate had not steadied. Neither one of them knew how much longer she could tolerate such a rapid heart rate. Unable to give her a Sleeping Potion, Severus could only hope that her pulse would return to normal once she relaxed enough to sleep.

However, their patient soon tired of counting sheep. Sitting up, she regarded him with the utmost scorn. "Not nearly as great a Potions Master as you'd have people believe, are you Snape? Or have you tired of tormenting me in your class and decided to bore me to death?"

"Close your eyes and stop talking nonsense, Rose. Professor Snape is right. You need to sleep."

Huffily crossing her arms across her chest, she glowered at Healer Wellby before closing her eyes once more. When she had, Mark put a hand on Severus' shoulder. He was grateful for the wizard's sympathy. He couldn't endure Rose's disdain much longer without breaking.

Quietly, so she couldn't overhear, he vowed, "I'll kill whomever did this to her."

He'd expected a lecture about the sanctity of life or not taking the law into one's own hands. Instead, the Ravenclaw reassuringly squeezed his shoulder. "Just make certain no one can find the body."

"Don't worry," he promised. "When I'm finished, there won't be a body to hide."

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"Dexter Fortescue was born in Ottery-St.-Catchpole on October 2nd, 1810. In 1838, he became the youngest wizard in history to assume the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts. No other candidate that year chose to apply due to the threat the Troll Troubles posed to the school. Talented in Arithmacy, Fortescue is credited with . . . ."

Severus stopped reading from _Hogwarts: A History_ to take a sip of water. Well into the dinner hour, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations had surely made their entrance. He wondered what the years had done to the idiot Karkaroff. Snape thought him extremely foolish to return to Britain, even as the Head of Durmstrang. The modicum of prestige his title would bring meant nothing to the likes of McNair and the elder Avery, who would gladly see him roasting on a spit.

When Rose didn't protest his silence, he snuck a peek at his ward. Incredibly, she had finally nodded off. Casting a nonverbal spell, he watched as a red light appeared above her chest to flash with the rhythm of her heart. Keen, exhausting relief swept through him. Her pulse had returned to a slow and steady beat. Sending his Patronus to inform Healer Wellby, he thanked a nameless god for the miracle. Now, if only her mind would follow her heart.

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Feeling like she had lost a fight with a hippogriff, Rose Potter woke to a pounding headache. Eyes firmly shut, she pawed at her bedside table to retrieve her glasses. When her hand waved through empty air, she muttered a few choice words. Her bedside table had gone missing. She was going to hex Lavender for pulling such a stupid prank. The other girls knew how much she depended on her glasses. Without them, everything blurred into fuzzy hazes of color.

Reluctantly cracking open her eyes, she noticed the lack of red surrounding her bed. Even without her glasses, she instantly recognized the stark white of the Hospital Wing. Well, that explained the pounding headache, although not the reason for it. Was it a Quidditch mishap? Idiotic Gryffindor bravery? Or had she been a victim of a Slytherin dirty trick? She simply couldn't recall. If her head didn't hurt so much she might have been frightened by her ignorance, but the pounding interfered with prolonged thought.

Glancing about, it took her a moment to distinguish the black blob in a sea of gray. Her Potions Master slept in a chair beside her. She felt a pang of guilt; her injury must have been bad to rate a bedside vigil. Ever since that day he'd taken her from the Dursleys, Snape had been more than decent. No one could accuse him of not taking his responsibilities seriously.

She smiled at the thought before she wondered what it meant. Serious . . . serious . . . Sirius! Pressing against the sides of her head, she wished for a Pain Relief Potion. Stiff and tired, she longed to go back to sleep, but curiosity overrode her exhaustion.

"Professor Snape?"

The sharp features of his face materialized in front of her. He scrutinized her so closely that she fidgeted under his gaze. Automatically, she reached for her charm bracelet only to wince as her fingers brushed against her wrist.

"Did I break my arm when I fell, Professor?"

His face disappeared only to reappear a few seconds later. His stern frown was at odds with the careful way he pushed her glasses behind her ears. She grinned as the world came into focus, but her smile didn't last long.

Snape looked awful, like he'd contracted a bad case of . . . phoenix flu! The Quidditch World Cup. A first kiss. A Death Eater at Hogwarts. A mishap with the Floo. Dad. The_ Daily Prophet_. Her parents' graves. A birthday to remember. The home that should have been hers. Cissy. Sirius. Hermione. A shoebox full of letters. Boys who were gits. Boys she'd quite like to kiss. The Dueling Club. _Stupefy_!

"No." She groaned as she clutched her head.

He handed her a potion which she drank without question. As the pounding against her skull slowly dulled, she snuck a peak at the wizard she'd come to love like a father. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Black stubble defined his chin and dark smudges underlined his eyes. His hair could only be described as greasy, and his usually pale face had grayed.

"You look bloody awful, Dad."

She'd expected a snipe at her choice of words, but it never came. Instead, she heard a suspicious sniff as he rubbed his eyes. Surely it couldn't have been that bad?

"Rose."

Oh, Merlin, it had. She hadn't heard that waver in his voice since returning from her accidental trip to his past. Now that she no longer feared her head splitting in two, she forced a smile. "I'm fine, really. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll quit the Dueling Club. We can both enjoy a nice, quiet year."

Looming over the bed, he seemed positively gobsmacked by her offer. She saw a flitter of a smile before he sat heavily in the chair. "If I were to tell you the only way to achieve such peace was to leave Hogwarts this very morning, what would you say?"

She wanted to tell him to stop fooling around, but the retort died on her tongue as she realized he was far too somber. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I won't. I won't let him win, not like this, not without a fight. Whatever it is, I'm staying."

He didn't seem surprised by her answer. Or disappointed. Just extremely tired. "Very well. Then Sirius should speak to you as soon as possible. He will be able to inform you of what I cannot."

Before she could demand an explanation, he knelt to fasten her mother's charm bracelet around her bruised wrist. "I'll delay Madam Pomfrey for as long as I can. When you are released from the Hospital Wing, find Miss Granger. Do not leave her sight. Do not eat or drink anything unless it comes directly from the house-elves. And, Rose . . . ."

Rose could hardly form a sentence as she fought to understand his hurried instructions. "Yeah?"

"I love you, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. No matter what happens tonight, remember that." Kissing her on the cheek, he left before she could form a coherent reply.

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"You can't be serious!"

Fiddling with her bracelet, Rose fought the urge to panic. Not about the TriWizard tournament, mind you. After all the bizarre things that had happened to her during her years at Hogwarts, she hadn't been all that fussed about the prospect of being named the school's TriWizard Champion in a few hours' time. Besides, according to what Sirius had told her, it would protect her from Voldemort and his schemes until the end of the school year. When he'd put it like that, she thought the idea a brilliant one.

Finding out exactly what sort of Vow her dad had made to protect her had been a little more off-putting, but she'd gotten over it fairly quickly. She knew Professor Snape cared for her, Unbreakable Vow or no. Actually, she thought it quite romantic. He truly must have loved her mother to make such a promise. The thought that he might die trying to protect her niggled at the back of her mind, but she firmly refused to consider it. No, it was the final secret her godfather revealed that had her raising her voice.

"You know me, Rosie. I'm always Sirius."

She didn't smile at his weak joke, not this time, not when he'd done something so . . . so ridiculously birdbrained. "It's not funny. He's going to kill you when he finds out. What were you thinking, Sirius? You know how dangerous it is to mix Muggle medicines with Potions, don't you?"

He looked like she had just kicked a puppy. "I only did it to protect you. Re—a friend told me about those caffeine pills the Muggles use. I thought if your heart started to race during the competition, Dumbledore would be forced to reconsider. I did it for both of you. You can't believe Snape wants you to compete in the TriWizard Tournament. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous? Like me ending up in the Hospital Wing dangerous? You should have seen him, Sirius! He looked like hell. I thought he might cry. Besides, your plan didn't exactly work, did it? From what you've said, I'm going to be the Hogwarts Champion regardless. Besides, I'd rather be entered in some stupid competition than face Voldemort."

"I truly am sorry. You know I would never do anything to hurt you."

She knew that. She did. Sirius had saved her life and the lives of Professor Snape and Pansy Parkinson in the Shrieking Shack. It wasn't a question of loyalty, or even bravery, but sanity. And, her godfather appeared to be woefully lacking in that department. Why else would he have left her to Hagrid's care the night her parents died to chase after Peter Pettigrew?

Tugging on her charm bracelet, she steeled herself against the remorse shining from his sad, gray eyes. Her dad couldn't know, not ever. The Professor wouldn't forgive anyone who'd injured her, intentionally or otherwise. But Sirius had become his friend, and he didn't have many of those. Really, there was no other way.

"Obliviate me."

"What? No! You can't mean that! There isn't enough time to warn you about the Goblet of Fire again, and I'm not precise enough to merely take the one memory."

She lay calmly on the bed. At least, she hoped she appeared calm. The thought of being Obliviated filled her with terror. But, he was right about one thing. They didn't have much time. Madam Pomfrey would be appearing any minute.

"Then you should have thought about that before poisoning me. Look, I get that you didn't mean it, and I forgive you. But, Dad won't. And, it's not fair to him. Enough people have betrayed him without adding you to the list. So, you're going to Obliviate me, and then you'll have to find a way to Obliviate yourself. I won't let you hurt Dad like this. He doesn't deserve it."

"Rosie . . . ."

The hangdog expression on his face almost swayed her, but she pointedly looked away. "If you don't, I'll tell him myself. Because I'm not going to add my betrayal to yours."

"From Lily's daughter, I'd expect no less. I am sorry, Rose."

"_Obliviate_."

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Rose opened her eyes to discover she had slept with her glasses on. But, she wasn't in her dormitory. Instead, she lay on a narrow metal bed in a small, private area of the Hospital Wing. She recognized the place from the time Hermione had Polyjuiced herself into Millicent Bullstrode's cat.

"Hey, Rosie, how are you feeling?"

She whipped her head towards the sound of her godfather's voice. Poor Sirius, he sounded so miserable and somber, not at all his usual boisterous self. Standing beside him in her impeccably starched uniform, Madam Pomfrey seemed unusually grave as well. She must have given everyone quite a scare.

"Where's Dad?"

The school matron's expression softened while Sirius inexplicably frowned. "I insisted he return to his quarters, young lady. Your poor father hasn't slept more than a wink since you were poisoned. When he told me you'd woken, he could hardly stand upright. I had to help him to his quarters myself. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that you'd regained your memories. He said the only thing you don't recall is the time spent under the influence of the Potion. Is that true, Rose?"

She nodded out of habit, having learned long ago not to express weakness or confusion to all but a trusted few. And, as much as she trusted Madam Pomfrey, she wanted out of the Hospital Wing. Poison! She couldn't believe it. And, she must have been groggy when she'd woken the first time. That's why she didn't remember talking to her father.

By Merlin, she'd been poisoned! How was that possible? She couldn't remember drinking any suspicious potions, or drinking anything but the water provided for the competitors for that matter. Maybe she'd been cursed instead.

Madam Pomfrey performed several diagnostic spells before she finally allowed herself a small smile. "You've made a remarkable recovery, Rose. Healer Wellby is scheduled to visit after the Choosing of the Champions tonight, but I see no reason to keep you here in the meantime. So long as you promise to take it easy, I will release you."

That was an easy promise to make. She desperately needed a shower, and if she hurried, she could catch the end of breakfast in the Great Hall.

Ignoring Sirius' suggestion that he escort her to Gryffindor Tower, she sprinted into the corridor. The last thing she needed was her godfather to find out that she wasn't quite as perfect as she seemed. When the Fat Lady's portrait swung wide to allow her inside the Gryffindor Common Room, she rushed to give a startled Hermione a hug.

"Rose! We were all so worried! Madam Pomfrey said you were too sick for visitors. Poor Lee Jordan's going spare thinking he accidentally killed you."

Grinning, she led her friend up the stairs. "Never mind Lee. As soon as I take a shower, I want you to tell me everything I've missed."

Going through her trunk for some warm clothes, she smiled as Hermione began to describe the Welcoming Feast for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. With all the foreign students staying at Hogwarts and the excitement of the TriWizard Tournament, her trip to the Hospital Wing soon would be forgotten. For once, she wouldn't be the subject of endless gossip. It was nice to be just Rose for a change. And, with a little luck, she would stay that way.


	21. A Rose with Thorns

"_Congratulations, my boy. You've performed yet another miracle."_

_Blinking in a useless attempt to rid himself of the feeling his eyes were encased in sand, Severus turned towards the Headmaster's voice. Dumbledore wore a dressing gown that could be compared to the biblical Joseph's coat of many colors. Pulling out his pocket watch, he stifled a groan. Three in the bloody morning—what could the old man possibly have to say that couldn't wait until a more appropriate hour?_

"_Rather than a miracle, Rose's recovery can be attributed to what Minerva would describe as sheer, dumb luck. The potion seems to have run its course, although its lasting effects won't be known until she wakes."_

_The Headmaster's eyes twinkled as he regarded the sleeping witch. "You give yourself too little credit, Severus. Should she continue to be confused like Healer Wellby fears, I'm certain you will once again earn Miss Potter's trust."_

_His head pounded as Albus gave voice to his biggest fear. What if Rose never regained her memories? Or worse, what if the potion had stolen all of her good memories of him? She had called him a Death Eater several times that day; she hadn't known that particular shame until he had told her. How could he endure her condemnation a second time?_

_Growing despondent under the weight of his anxiety, he looked to his mentor for support. He wanted to confess his doubts and receive calm reassurances from the man whose opinions he valued over all others. Only, he witnessed the cold calculation that briefly flitted across Dumbledore's face, and his trust shriveled like a rotting apple._

"_Surely you could have congratulated me at a more appropriate hour, Albus. What, exactly, do you want?"_

_The older wizard had the audacity to pull out a sweet from the pocket of his dressing gown, carefully unwrap it and then thoughtfully pop it into his mouth before deigning to answer. Fuming, Snape braced himself to hear something unpleasant._

"_In reality I have very few wants, my boy. You'll discover the same when you reach my age. However, I did wish to remind you that Rose's name will be drawn from the Goblet of Fire tonight. I believe it would be best for everyone if she is in the Great Hall to personally accept the honor."_

"_Your humor leaves much to be desired." The words popped out of his mouth even though he knew them to be false. The old coot didn't joke, at least not like this. He actually meant to enter Rose into the TriWizard Tournament regardless of her health._

"_I assure you this is no jest, Severus. Tom expects her to be the Hogwarts Champion, and so the Hogwarts Champion she shall be. The first task is scheduled for the twenty-fourth of November, ample time to prepare her no matter the long-term effects of the poison."_

"_We've no idea of the long-term effects," he hissed, careful not to wake Rose. "For all you know, the potion's turned her into a Squib."_

_Eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore jauntily dismissed Snape's concern. "Nonsense, my boy. The Potion to rob a witch or wizard of their magic takes years to brew, not to mention some near mythical ingredients. Besides, I've already spoken to Poppy, and she is in complete agreement."_

_A snort escaped him; it was the only hint of disbelief he dared show. Under normal circumstances, Madame Pomfrey would never allow a student poisoned with an unknown potion to return to her dormitory so soon. The Headmaster had either Confounded her or . . . . No, Machiavellian as Albus might be, he'd never dare an Unforgivable. _

"_Since I obviously have little say in the matter, I can only hope you are correct, Albus."_

_Abruptly, the old man's good humor disappeared. "I must be, Severus. You above all else should understand the dangers of relying on hope."_

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- x_

Waking to the sound of insistent pounding on the door to his quarters, Severus carefully stretched. Sleeping on such an uncomfortably short couch had left him stiff. Groggily, he tried to recall why anyone would so urgently wish to see him. When the events of the last few days came rushing back, he cursed Poppy Pomfrey. She had obviously snuck a Sleeping Draught in his tea. Most likely Minerva had been sent down to fetch him to the night's feast.

Intending to complain about the school matron's meddling, he flung open the door. The protest died on his lips as an elegantly dressed Narcissa Malfoy pushed past him, Rose in tow. He stared stupidly at them both, not quite sure of what to make of their appearance. The beautiful blonde witch in the pale violet robes took a good look at him, patted him comfortingly on the arm, and then briskly ordered him to shower.

"I'll ask for some food to be brought to your quarters and make some tea. Would an Invigoration Draught help counter the effects of the Sleeping Potion someone obviously slipped you?"

"I . . . ." Not quite prepared for coherent conversation, he turned around to do as she asked. A hot shower might burn off some of the fog stubbornly clinging to his brain.

By the time he had showered, shaved and dressed, he no longer required the Invigoration Draught. He was curious, however, to know why Rose wasn't with Hermione Granger as he had instructed. Miss Granger would prove to be a trustworthy alibi if anyone accused Rose of deliberately submitting her name to the Goblet of Fire. She might be forced to compete, but that didn't mean the world had to believe she recklessly pursued fame.

Approaching the kitchen, he stopped at the sound of the two witches arguing.

". . . . Why? So he can go chasing after another Death Eater at Hogwarts? I told you to let him rest. It's not going to change anything. He can figure out who put my name in the Goblet when he's feeling better. Let's not mention it at all, okay?"

"Rose, I am concerned about your health, not his. You should know who put your name in the Goblet of Fire. Sirius should have explained everything to you this morning, yet you continue to insist he didn't."

"That's because it's the truth," she hissed. "He and Madame Pomfrey were there when I woke, but I didn't stick around after she dismissed me. Wait—are you telling me he knew I would be chosen as the Hogwarts Champion? That's insane!"

Suspicious and perplexed, he stepped into their line of sight. "You do not remember our conversation this morning?"

Sitting at the small table, Rose pressed her palm tightly against her forehead. "Madame Pomfrey might have mentioned it."

He wanted to yell and shout and demand a reason for her foolishness. She'd been poisoned and had simply ignored her continued memory loss? Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm. She could very well still be suffering from the potion's effects.

"How long have you had that headache?"

She shrugged. "A while, I guess. Hermione wanted me to go to the Hospital Wing this afternoon."

"Is that why you were sitting next to Neville Longbottom at dinner this evening?" Narcissa gently interjected.

She shrugged again. "Probably. I said a few things to Hermione she didn't appreciate. Neither did Ron, for that matter."

"What did you say?"

"Doesn't matter." After a moment, she looked up, her face a reflection of misery. "I was horrid. I'm not sure she'll ever forgive me."

He and Narcissa shared a worried glance. It wasn't like Rose to be unnecessarily cruel.

"Rose, darling, can you tell me what you said? Perhaps it's not as bad as you fear."

Tugging on her bracelet, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I didn't eat lunch. She kept pestering me about it, and I finally told her that I was tired and my head hurt. I just wanted to sleep it off, but she wouldn't stop talking. She kept inventing reasons for me to go see Madame Pomfrey, and when I told her to stop it, she told me to come here. I told her she was barmy if she thought I was going to bother Snape. I told her you'd most likely give me detention and dock a hundred points for the interruption."

Severus had to bite his tongue to keep from interrupting. With growing unease, he continued to listen to her dispirited tale.

"She grew shrill, the way she does when she's losing an argument but she doesn't want to admit it. She said that just proved I should go to the Hospital Wing, that I wasn't acting like myself. And, then I said . . . ."

She gripped her head. When she didn't continue, Cissy knelt down beside her to brush her hair away from her face. "We all say things we don't mean, sweetheart. Tell us, please."

With a choked half-sob, she confessed, "I said she needed to mind her own business. That a bushy-haired know-it-all who couldn't even maintain a decent Shield Charm when flustered couldn't possibly know what was best for me. I said she was just like her mother, jumping to all sorts of nasty conclusions when she didn't even know all the facts. And that . . . and that the only reason I put up with her is because no one else will."

The tears started in earnest then. Severus thanked Merlin for Narcissa as she led Rose to the couch to pat her back as she cried. Although he'd served in that capacity before, he'd always found it an awkward, uncomfortable affair. By the time the waterworks had ended, Rose snored quietly against the older woman's shoulder, her face a red, swollen mess.

"You should eat something, Severus. An empty stomach won't help her."

He ate because the smell of the roast and potatoes had made him hungry and not because Narcissa was in any way right. She joined him at the table a few minutes later to pour them each a steaming hot cup of tea. When he asked, she told him she'd left Rose sleeping on the couch, which she'd transfigured into a comfortable bed. He'd wished Poppy had thought to do that before drugging him.

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?"

The question caught him off guard. He wished she would stay every night. After a second, though, he understood her to be asking if he would like her to stay for Rose's sake.

"If you do not think it too much trouble."

"I wouldn't offer it if was." Growing contemplative, she took a sip of tea. "I've always wished for another child. Funny, the way these things work."

"Rose is very lucky to have you in her life. She needs a mother right now."

Neither one had ever mentioned the possibility of children. They both knew how difficult it had been for her to conceive. After several years of fruitless attempts, Lucius had plied her with Fertility Potions. Then, a year after that, he had paid Severus a tidy sum for several powerful Virility Potions, warning that if anyone ever discovered his use of said potions, his friend would die a slow and painful death. In the end, the couple had employed a Fertility Potion, two Virility Potions and a vial of Felix Felicis, resulting in the birth of their son and the sole Malfoy heir, Draco.

"Surely, if you asked Molly Weasley—"

"Usually," he smoothly interrupted. "However, she tends to put too much stock in the _Daily Prophet_. I'm afraid she has rather severe opinions about extramarital affairs. Worse, she now blames me for Rose's abandonment and abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. Any request coming from me at the moment is likely to be rebuffed."

"But this is about Rose, Severus, not you. Even if she does believe those pack of lies, she wouldn't blame the child, would she?"

"Of course not. Unfortunately, Rose wrote to explain that the article was a pack of lies. I'm afraid Molly wrote back to tell her that anyone with eyes knew how strongly I lusted after her mother."

"She didn't!"

Stunned by her vehemence, he nearly spat out his tea. Instead, he swallowed and flashed a droll smile. "She did."

For an inexplicable reason, Narcissa lapsed into helpless giggles. After a moment, he found the humor in the situation as well. He grinned along with her until worry about Rose sapped the fleeting gaiety he had managed to grasp. His lover immediately sensed his change in mood.

"She'll be alright, Severus. Perhaps she simply needs additional rest."

"And, if she wakes tomorrow not remembering the day before?"

"You will be there to remind her, for as long as it's necessary."

Her simple conviction robbed him of all speech. Nodding, he wondered what he had ever done to deserve someone so breathtakingly loyal.

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"How are you feeling, Rose?"

"Dad? Where are my glasses?"

Wordlessly, he pressed them into her hands. Her confused expression didn't disappear once she took a proper look at her surroundings. His heart sank into his gut.

"Why am I . . . ? Oh, god. Hermione. She's never going to forgive me."

"Nonsense, dear. She's your friend. Of course she'll forgive you."

Severus and Rose stared witlessly at Narcissa as she walked into his cramped sitting room wearing a black velour bathrobe. Her wet hair wrapped in a towel, she smiled tranquilly at them both, unperturbed by the expression of consternation that had stolen over Rose's face.

"Okaaaay, that's a little too weird. What are you doing in Professor Snape's—never mind, I really don't want to know."

The elegant witch chuckled before kissing Rose on the cheek. "He thought you might need the comfort of a woman this morning, darling, nothing more embarrassing than that. I thought I'd have time for a shower before you woke, but I see I was wrong. How are you this morning?"

Rubbing her neck, the bleary-eyed teen carefully considered her answer. "I don't think I'm going mental anymore, so I suppose that's an improvement. Although . . . please tell me being named the Hogwarts champion in the TriWizard Tournament was a bad dream."

"Regrettably not, Rose."

Severus watched her quietly absorb the information as she pressed her fingers against her temples. She appeared to accept her predicament without the indignation she had exhibited the night before. More encouraging, she did not act surprised, and he could only hope the potion had finally run its course.

"How severe is your headache this morning?"

"Not very," she replied, dropping her hands to her sides. "It's loads better than yesterday. I feel more thick-headed than anything. It's a good thing I don't have to play Quidditch today. I'd never find the Snitch."

Narcissa took the towel off her head to apply a Drying Charm to her straight blonde hair. "Why don't you take a nice, hot shower, Rose. I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards. I can perform a quick cleaning spell on your clothes, and by the time you're finished, Severus will have breakfast for us. Won't you, Severus?"

"Yes," he replied promptly, rather amused by Narcissa's assertiveness. While her demeanor could still be mistaken as cold and reserved in public, her confidence had blossomed in more private settings. She no longer questioned herself over simple decisions, and it had been weeks since she had apologized for voicing her opinion. He rather liked her newfound poise. More and more she resembled the self-assured young witch he had so idolized during his first year at Hogwarts.

Rose watched his reaction to the older woman's commands and couldn't hide a smile. As soon as her lips upturned into a playful smirk, Snape's heart felt much lighter. At least her sense of humor remained intact. Perhaps Narcissa had been correct; perhaps Rose had simply needed extra time to recover. With that optimistic thought in the forefront of his mind, he summoned a house-elf to order a full breakfast for all of them.

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Walking into the Hospital Wing several hours later with Rose, Severus scowled at Madame Pomfrey, though it was perfunctory at best. Yesterday hadn't been the first time the stern medi-witch had slipped a Sleeping Draught into his drink, nor would it likely be the last. If he were completely honest with himself, he had needed the rest. However, that didn't mean he approved of her duplicity.

"There you are, Miss Potter. When you didn't appear at breakfast, I feared I'd be forced to search for you. I should have known that you were with your father. And, Severus, stop glaring. You and I both know a potion was the only way you would sleep."

"I missed Rose's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire," he testily accused, although he inwardly preened at Poppy's reference to him as Rose's father. She knew the truth, but after the _Daily Prophet_ fiasco had briskly informed him that fatherhood was more than an act of biology.

"I didn't do it," Rose blurted out as soon as the starched school matron folded her arms in front of her. "Honestly, Madame Pomfrey, I didn't put my name in."

The strict witch visibly softened. "Of course you didn't, dear. Though who might have . . . ." She trailed off, suddenly appearing uncomfortable before giving Rose a tight-lipped smile. "The Headmaster has assured me that the Goblet wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't up for the task, and I must agree. If you hadn't been poisoned, I believe you would have won your duel against Lee Jordan."

A flush of red crept up the Gryffindor's neck. "Poor Lee! He keeps apologizing for Stunning me. I've told him I can't recall the duel, but that hasn't stopped him. After the eighth time, I told him off, rather rudely, I'm afraid. I suppose that's another apology I'll have to make."

Thinking of Rose's tearful confession last night, Severus inwardly cringed. "Was there anyone in Gryffindor Tower you did not manage to insult yesterday?"

"Uh . . . Neville, I guess. I think I owe Colin Creevey a new camera. He kept snapping pictures and the flash hurt my eyes so much I might have thrown it against the wall."

Madame Pomfrey gasped and then awkwardly made an excuse to leave. Assuring them that Healer Wellby should be arriving at any moment, she ordered Rose to sit in the examination area. Troubled by the growing accounts of her irritability, Severus followed the teen to continue their discussion.

"What else did you do in a fit of temper yesterday, Rose?"

Tugging on her bracelet, her face went scarlet. "I, uh, I might have slapped George." Before he could react, she added hotly, "But he deserved it!"

"Explain," he commanded in a voice that no student yet had dared cross.

"Erm . . . Fred and George started teasing me, just like they usually do, but by then I just wanted to return to my dorm and be alone. The slightest thing would set me off, and I wanted to be away from people. This was, um, before Hermione really started pestering me. Anyway, I yelled at them to stop messing about, and Fred said maybe I needed something besides a few jokes to cheer me up. And that's when he kissed me."

"You slapped George Weasley because his brother kissed you."

She squirmed under his gaze. "Um, something like that."

Scowling in earnest this time, he demanded, "Or did George Weasley kiss you, too?"

"No. Can we just not talk about this, please?

He didn't understand, not at all. Why slap George for something Fred had done? Or had she liked the kiss and George had earned the slap for something else entirely? Merlin, he felt like he had fallen into deep, dangerous waters and couldn't quite decide if he wished to know what might be lurking underneath.

"Agreed. Perhaps you could speak to Narcissa or even to Black. Your godfather is much more familiar with these types of situations."

Quickly losing her embarrassment, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like Sirius can have a serious conversation with anyone. He's like Peter Pan in that book of Mom's you gave me. He won't grow up."

His eyebrows shot up. Rose adored Sirius. He showered her with gifts and treated her more like a little sister than a goddaughter. "Has Black done something to upset you, Rose?"

"It's not that," she muttered. "He's just . . . . He should be more like you, take life more seriously. I feel like everything's a big joke to him. And, if he doesn't stop calling me Rosie, I'll . . . ."

She trailed off, and he didn't press to know her answer. Black could be childish at times, but he never thought it had upset her before. Then again, everything seemed to have upset her the day before.

They waited silently in the sterile examination area for almost twenty minutes before Rose began to fidget. Finally, she asked, "So what did Cissy mean last night when she said Sirius should have explained who put my name in the Goblet of Fire? He didn't enter my name, did he?"

"No." Watching her bite her nails, he resisted the urge to tell her to play with her bracelet instead. He had intended to speak to her after Wellby's examination, but the talented Healer was uncharacteristically late. He couldn't put it off any longer. Looking around, he cast _Muffliato_.

"Do you remember the Death Eater whom I discovered had impersonated Alastor Moody?"

She blew a puff of air up towards her bangs. "How could I forget? I lie awake at night thinking about those spiders he used in class to demonstrate the Unforgivables and wonder if they were supposed to be me."

"He planned to kidnap you."

"I know that bit, thanks. Believe me; I have nightmares about that, too."

"What I didn't tell you is that he intended to enter you in the TriWizard Tournament and use the last task as a diversion to do so."

She quit biting her nails long enough to shrug. "So? Isn't he locked up?"

He hesitated to answer, and in that second, she jumped to the wrong conclusion. Grabbing her charm bracelet, she shrieked, "He got away and no one told me?"

"No," he immediately reassured her, cursing himself for his idiocy. "He hasn't escaped. In fact, the Dark Lord shouldn't realize he has been captured. He had strict orders to stay at Hogwarts and not attract unnecessary attention."

"Then, why . . . ?" Her eyes jerked to his. "This is the trap, isn't it? Voldemort expects his follower to kidnap me at the end of the TriWizard Tournament. When he doesn't, he'll be forced out of hiding to find me. But why not just do it now? Why enter me in the tournament at all?"

"The Headmaster hopes to find him long before the end of the tournament. He wishes to preserve the element of surprise."

It wasn't a complete lie. Albus did hope to surprise Voldemort. However, he needed to find and destroy the Horcruxes before a successful ambush could be planned. Once the megalomaniac died permanently this time, he hoped Rose would forgive him the deception.

"Oh. I suppose that's alright, then. Only, why did Cissy think Sirius would have told me. Why not you?"

Shifting in his chair, he answered, "We have your Invisibility Cloak to thank for that . . . ."

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They waited patiently in the Hospital Wing for another hour, plenty of time for Severus to explain the restrictions of the Unbreakable Vow and Black's role in circumventing it. Rose took the new information in stride. In fact, she seemed more embarrassed than frightened. Unwittingly, she had cheated someone out of a chance to compete. They both agreed it was a secret she could not share with her friends, if her friends did, in fact, forgive her for her boorish behavior.

When Mark finally appeared, his usually immaculate green robes were flecked with red. There was a small cut over his right eye, and he cradled his right wrist in his left hand. If Severus hadn't known better, he would have thought the young man had been involved in a bar fight. Still, he got straight to work, although without his usual cheery hello.

"How are you feeling, Rose?"

She didn't seem to notice the small spatters of blood on his robes, or the change in his demeanor. She smiled as he checked her pupil response and ran a few diagnostic spells. "I feel loads better than yesterday, Healer Wellby."

"And how did you feel yesterday?"

He listened attentively as she explained her irritability, headache and fatigue. After she had told him all the rude things she had done (minus the incident with George), he stood at one of the large picture windows, mulling over her symptoms in his head. Finally, he asked Severus for his observations.

"She does not recall speaking to me yesterday morning when she woke. Nor does she remember speaking to Sirius Black minutes later. She was confused upon waking today, although that resolved itself fairly quickly. Rose also complained of feeling thickheaded, but isn't showing signs of that now.

"She spoke to Sirius yesterday morning?"

Wellby's sharp tone put him on alert. Considering his answer carefully, he replied, "She must have spoken to him for at least twenty minutes, although I wasn't privy to their conversation."

"But he was definitely at Hogwarts yesterday."

"In the morning, yes."

Unusually tight-lipped, the young wizard performed one last diagnostic spell on Rose. Abruptly, his demeanor changed. He smiled encouragingly at the now apprehensive teen, handing her a large bar of Honeyduke's finest dark chocolate.

"You're going to be fine, Rose. The chocolate should help with any lingering irritability. You are to rest today, but may return to classes tomorrow if your symptoms don't reappear. I'm counting on you to inform Severus if they do. Will you promise me that?"

"I promise, Healer Wellby."

"Brilliant," he replied, although his attention had already shifted back to the huge picture windows. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to examine Professor Snape. Mrs. Malfoy mentioned the Sleeping Draught. He seems to be rather sensitive to that particular class of potions and I wish to make sure he has not developed an allergy to them."

Snape bored his eyes into the blond Healer's, but his former student's Occlumency shields were exceptionally strong. How the hell could he possibly know of Narcissa's clandestine visit? She had left only two hours ago.

Rose, however, accepted his explanation without question. Thanking him for the chocolate, she unwrapped the bar as she walked towards the exit. When she disappeared into the corridor, Mark's expression radically changed. His smile vanished, and he leaned tiredly against the stark white wall, his head bent.

"What's happened? What aren't you telling me? Is Narcissa unwell?"

"It's not Narcissa," he answered tiredly. "According to the Auror's report, she decided to check on her cousin this morning since he missed the feast last night. She Flooed to Grimmauld Place and found the drawing room in shambles. The large mirror over the fireplace had been shattered, as well as all the glass cabinets. Mr. Black lay screaming in the middle of the floor. He believed himself to be in his cell in Azkaban. When he accused her of being a hallucination, she attempted to contact me, but I was in the middle of a very delicate spell reversal and couldn't be disturbed. Somehow, she was able to convince him to Apparate to St. Mungo's."

Pausing a moment, he ruefully rubbed his wrist. "Unfortunately, he was confused and frightened upon his arrival. He Stupefied Narcissa and got in a few good punches before I could Stupefy him. He's in the Spell Damage Ward. The Aurors wished to bring Narcissa to the Ministry for questioning, but I diagnosed shock and ordered her home to rest. Magical Law Enforcement wasn't pleased, but they couldn't legally detain her since she's not a suspect. I'm sorry they're involved. It's going to be difficult to keep Rose's name out of the investigation."

Severus wanted to throttle the young man. His explanation lacked sufficient details. What had happened to Black? Why were Aurors involved? And what the hell did it have to do with Rose?

Seeing the deepening glower on the Potion Master's face, Mark Wellby took a deep breath. "Sometime after his visit to Hogwarts yesterday morning, Sirius Black was Obliviated, Severus. The Aurors are trying to determine if the Memory Charm backfired or if the intent was to drive him to the edge of insanity by erasing his memories since his escape from Azkaban."

Snape blanched as he digested the appalling news. He remembered the hint of insanity Black had carried when he had concealed himself as a dog to protect his goddaughter. He recalled the man's desperation, his almost maniacal obsession with exacting his vengeance on Peter Pettigrew. He couldn't imagine his friend's state of mind at the moment.

Abruptly, he shuddered as a chill sank through his bones. "Why would the Aurors feel the need to question Rose?"

He'd seen that particular combination of regret and compassion Mark now wore on other people's faces too many times. It was the look the Muggle doctor had given him in A&E when the man had explained that nothing more could be done for his mother. It was the expression on that idiot Slughorn's face when he'd been pulled out of Transfiguration to discover his father had finally managed to kill himself. It was the look Albus had given him when he had confirmed Lily's death. It was not an expression he wished to see on a Healer's face in regards to Rose. He steeled himself for the worst.

"I'm sorry, Severus. She shows signs of recent Obliviation as well."

He managed to collapse onto the metal chair before his legs completely gave way. Whilst black spots flashed in front of his eyes, he sat immobile. The young Healer anxiously called his name, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. He'd failed to protect Rose yet again.

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**Author's Notes** - Hi! Writing is a process, and I'd like to share with you everything that went into making this chapter. If it's not your cup of tea, please feel free to skip it; that's why the author's note is after the chapter this time. Still reading? Well, you were warned.

When posting a story chapter by chapter before it is complete, an author always runs the risk of writing themselves (and their characters) into a corner. Something always bothered me about the previous chapter, and I didn't decide what it was until the third rewrite of this one. Why would Severus ever leave Rose by herself in the Hospital Wing after being poisoned? Weren't there better and easier ways to distract Madame Pomfrey while Sirius spoke to Rose? His behavior seems very out of character since the Snape I write is a very protective, slightly paranoid father.

So, I had a dilemma. Originally, I had wanted to see the whole choosing of the champions scene through Snape's point of view. And, believe me, his reactions to Bagman, Crouch, Sr. and Karkaroff were entertaining. But, I finally realized that as soon as he understood Rose wasn't faking her surprise, he would have gone ballistic. That wasn't exactly my intent. So, Severus ends up falling prey to Poppy Pomfrey's hidden Slytherin traits, and ends up missing all the drama of that night. Since there was plenty enough drama in this chapter anyway, I hope I will be forgiven for skipping Rose's selection as the Hogwart's champion.

Oh, and a note about the combination of caffeine and the Bolstering Brew. In Muggles, an extreme caffeine overdose can cause everything from confusion, heart palpitations, extreme anxiety, vomiting, dehydration, tremors, insomnia and death. Caffeine withdrawal usually leaves a person with a headache, fatigue and irritability. In wizards, who knows? But, I thought the Bolstering Brew would intensify the effects far more than Sirius ever intended and give Rose severe withdrawal symptoms. So, poor Rose can blame Sirius for all the apologizing she will have to do to her Gryffindor friends. That is, if she ever remembers Sirius was responsible in the first place.

A sincere thank you to all my readers for sticking with the story. And, a bigger thank you to everyone who reviews. The reviews motivate me to continue this story through writer's block, real life obstacles and writing myself into tight corners. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter. I am trying to keep some of the main plot points true to The Goblet of Fire while writing my own AU, which is more difficult than it sounds. I'd love to know whether it's working or not!


	22. I Was Angry With My Friend

**Author's Notes** - Hi! No writer's block over this chapter, just a slew of end of year concerts, soccer games, awards ceremonies and the like. I'm so proud of my kids, but since this is a story, not a mom blog, I'll get right to the chapter. Yes, I skipped the retelling of the First Task from Snape's point of view. You can all assume Rose used her broom and did just as well as in the book. Don't worry, I promise to write his reactions to the second and third tasks. I simply though Sirius would be the more important plot point in this chapter. Snape doesn't have many friends and losing one the way he did is going to take its toll. Hope you all enjoy the update!

A great big thank you to everyone who was kind enough to review the last chapter. The kind words, encouragement and constructive criticism helped me move forward with the story.

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Walking through the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Severus Snape looked neither right nor left. He knew his destination all too well and had no desire to waste time in idle chitchat. Taking the lift to the fourth floor, he rang the bell for admittance to the Spell Damage Ward. The medi-witch on duty let him inside without a word.

"I'm here to see Sirius Black."

"Certainly, Professor Snape. Healer Wellby told us to expect you. Would you please follow me?"

He followed her down a long corridor of locked doors. Severus suppressed a shudder; this part of the ward reminded him of a prison rather than a hospital. The starkness of the rooms and the bars over the windows didn't help diminish his impression. He couldn't imagine Sirius in such an environment after spending so many years in Azkaban.

After five weeks of intense therapy, Black had finally broken through his paranoid delusions. Mark had assured him that the wizard now understood he'd been Obliviated by an unknown assailant. However, he'd gone on to say that Sirius had difficulty putting the last two years in context, which Snape had taken as a polite way of stating that the onetime Marauder was as confused as hell. He'd immediately offered to speak to his friend. When the shrewd young wizard couldn't suppress a smirk, he realized Mark had anticipated his offer. In his own way, the brilliant Ravenclaw could be as manipulative as any Slytherin.

Taking a key out of her pocket, the medi-witch paused. "It's policy to confiscate visitors' wands, Professor Snape, but Mr. Black tends towards violent outbursts at times. If you need to defend yourself, don't do anything more than Stun him. The poor dear has a tendency to take out his frustration on others."

Nodding, the Potions Master hid his dismay and sudden trepidation. Mark hadn't said anything of the sort, although it would explain why the mutt still resided in a locked room. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside.

Sirius lay on a white metal bed that reminded him very much of the Hogwarts infirmary, though the beds weren't bolted to the floor under Poppy's purview. The walls and sheets were a dull gray, as were the sorry excuse for clothes on Black's gaunt frame. Not a speck of color brightened the austere space. The filtered light came from a dirty, barred window, too high up to allow for a decent view.

Steeling himself, he scrutinized his friend. After a month in solitary confinement, his hair had grown out in a wild, tangled mess. Coupled with a ragged beard, he appeared more dog-like than Severus had ever seen him. Black had lost at least a stone; Severus thought he looked worse than when he'd been a fugitive from Azkaban. And were those yellowing bruises on his face or a trick of the dim light?

As the metal door clanged shut, the mutt's haunting gray eyes snapped open. His initial confusion quickly hardened into derision. Snape realized with a pang that this man had no reason to trust him. This man hadn't seen him since they'd parted less than amicably at Hogwarts all those years ago. Occluding his mind, he hid his emotions behind a stoic mask. Black needed answers, not sympathetic drivel from the last person he would consider a friend.

"Snivellus. My dear cousin said you would be visiting. Come to grovel at my feet, have you? Don't bother. We both know I'll be revoking your guardianship as soon as I'm out of here. Allowing you to steal Rose in the first place is the one thing about this business I don't understand. Well, besides the fact the Aurors haven't arrested you for attacking me."

"Careful, Black," he warned with a scowl, his vow to stay impassive broken as soon as the mutt threatened the guardianship. "You've enough problems without making wild accusations."

Sirius sat up, his lips curled into a nasty smirk. "It's only a problem if it's false. So, why are you here, Snivellus? Come to gloat?"

"Hardly," he answered in a semi-contrite tone. Black wasn't the enemy, but a victim; he would do well to remember it. "Healer Wellby believes I might answer some of your questions."

"Since when does a Death Eater tell the truth?"

"How did you know I was a Death Eater?" Genuinely curious, Snape recalled that his role as a Death Eater hadn't been made public until his trial. Even then, the official story had been that he'd acted under the Imperius Curse—Albus' doing, of course. Could Sirius have remembered some snippet of his recent past?

"Hell, Snivellus, you and Regulus spent enough time together that it's a wonder you weren't betrothed. How could you not be a Death Eater? You should have seen Lily when I told her. I didn't think her face could turn as red as her hair."

Fucking bastard. So he had been the one to tell Lily. With supreme effort, he swallowed the angry retort that bubbled in the back of his throat. Instead, he shrugged as if they'd had a slight disagreement about the weather.

"As your Healer has no doubt informed you, I left that life behind long ago. Now, are you going to stop being such an obstinate arse and let me explain, or would you rather sit in this dreary cell for the rest of your life?"

The mutt's eyes went a little wild, although it didn't alarm his visitor in this least. He'd seen that touch of madness in Black's expression often enough the year before.

"Why should I listen to a lying bastard like you? I've read the _Daily Prophet_. I know all about your obsession with Rose. What'd you do? Pay that Skeeter woman to write that pack of lies about Lily?"

Suddenly, Sirius stood inches from him, his face contorted with rage. "Why haven't you been sacked, you greasy git? James is Rose's father! He loved Lily! You were less than the dirt beneath her feet! Where do you get off pretending otherwise?"

Snape's nose exploded with pain and blood. Damn, but Black was faster than he'd anticipated. Reeling, he backed against the cinderblock wall while the crazed wizard continued to drive his fists into his body. Wand clutched in his hand, he knew he should Stun Sirius, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Finally, after a particularly vicious blow to the stomach, he gasped, "_Incarcerous_."

Tight ropes bound Black, ending the attack. Winded, Severus sank to the floor. Once he had caught his breath, he reached into his trouser pocket for a handkerchief to press against his nose. Broken, he thought dully as he carefully fingered the bone, just like the man currently snarling threats as he struggled against his bindings.

Severus suddenly felt tired, and it had nothing to do with the beating he had taken. The mutt he'd confided in, the enemy he'd ultimately befriended, that man had been killed with a single Obliviation, and he wasn't coming back. Worse, he couldn't even mourn his corpse. A bitter stranger had taken his place, one wearing the face of his friend.

"I apologize, Black. Knowing the extent of your memory loss, I should never have come here. Forgive my intrusion. I do, however, wish to make one thing absolutely clear. I am well aware that James is Rose's father. I have never said otherwise. Nor would I besmirch Lily's reputation in such a manner. I suggest you read Skeeter's articles about your cousin should you continue to suffer under the mistaken belief that she is in any way a proper journalist." With a flick of his wand, he loosened the bindings around the Marauder.

When the half-crazed wizard took a step forward to tower over him, Severus wondered if he hadn't made a miscalculation. Barefoot though he was, Black's kicks would hurt should he decide to take up where he had left off.

"You said James."

He looked up, surprised to see the puzzled expression on Black's face. Not willing to tempt fate by questioning his good luck, the Potions Master nodded wearily. "Yes, James is Rose's father. No matter our differences in school, I would never try to claim otherwise."

Had the situation been anything other than what it was, Snape would have hooted with laughter. The gaunt man looked as if he'd been petrified by a basilisk. Then, a savage glint appeared in his eyes.

"Is this some sort of new therapy? Because if it is, Wellby, I've got to say you're playing a dangerous game. You're lucky I only broke your nose."

"Your attacker obviously destroyed what little intellect you possessed when he stole your memories, Black. Why would your Healer polyjuice himself to look like me? You don't even remember me."

Still towering over him, Sirius scoffed. "Oh, I remember you well enough. You're a slimy, greasy git who still doesn't know the first thing about personal hygiene. You think I don't remember you, you Death Eater bastard? I remember all too well, which is why I intend to start legal proceedings contesting Rose's guardianship just as soon as I'm released. You may have the rest of the Wizarding world fooled, but not me. I remember exactly what you are, Snivellus Snape."

His former friend's rant hurt worse than his broken nose. Incensed, the grieving wizard let loose a tirade of his own as he struggled to stand.

"You don't remember me at all, you mangy mutt! If you did, you'd beg my forgiveness! Who do you think fed you all those months while you were a fugitive from Azkaban? Who helped you clear your name? If it weren't for me, you'd have been Kissed by a dementor long ago!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned heavily against the wall. From the pain now searing down his left calf, he might have ignored the burns on his leg a tad too long. Bloody blast-ended skrewts—those fire belching monsters should be put out of their misery. He couldn't decide who had been more idiotic, Hagrid for asking him to dose them with a Deworming Potion or him for agreeing.

Unexpectedly, Black pulled him from the wall. Supporting him under his shoulder, the emaciated wizard practically dragged him towards the bed.

"What the hell have you done to yourself this time, Snape? You know how Rose worries. To lose another fa—"

With a violent shove, Sirius sent him careening to the floor, where he landed in an awkward jumble. Suppressing a pained shout, Snape warily watched the conflicting emotions at play on the mutt's face—horror, revulsion, fear, bewilderment, but above all, mind numbing shock. As Black stood frozen in place, Severus rose slowly to his feet, wand out.

"As I said, this was a mistake, one that won't be repeated."

The metal door screeched open, and Severus limped out of the depressing room. Called by the medi-witch due to the shouting, Mark took one look at his nose before telling him off. Severus scarcely heard. He should have never become friends with the mangy mutt. He'd known in the recesses of his heart that it could never end well. Sentiment made one weak. He vowed never to fall prey to it again.

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Clutching the almost empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his right hand, Severus took another swig, vaguely noting that the alcohol no longer burned his throat. His broken nose still throbbed, but after the third glass the pain had dulled. Mark had offered to heal it several times, but each time he had snarled 'no' just a little bit louder. Eventually, the young man's attitude had turned as spiky as his blond hair, and he had stalked away to tend to another patient. Severus had taken that as his cue to leave. He'd been drinking ever since, first at the Hog's Head and then in the privacy of his own quarters.

Fuck, he hadn't been this pissed in years. Not since—he unrolled his left sleeve to stare at the Dark Mark tattooed onto his skin. Barmy Barty laid Stunned at the bottom of a locked trunk, and yet the shape of the magical brand grew ever more defined. Idly, he wondered if dousing the arm with another bottle of Firewhiskey and setting it aflame would destroy the hated branding.

No matter, his leg hurt too much to grab another bottle. As his stomach began to churn, he recalled all the reasons he didn't overindulge on a regular basis. Shit, he'd lost his tolerance for alcohol long ago. Fuzzily, he tried to remember which potions he had stocked in his private stores that might keep his liquid supper and dessert from making an unpleasant reappearance.

The door to his quarters gave a tiny squeak as it opened, and he grabbed for his wand. The bottle rolled out of his hands to clank heavily onto the floor. Before he could make the effort to stand, he heard a small gasp of alarm. His lips curled into a sneer, he turned to glare at the witch who had just barged into his private apartments.

"Dad?"

Choking back hot bile, he thundered, "What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have an egg to decipher? And who gave you permission to barge in like that? These are my private quarters, and I would like them to remain exactly that—private."

"You're, you're drunk. What happened? What's wrong, Dad?"

"Do not call me that! I am not your father! Your mother despised me and I am tired of pretending otherwise!"

Far too inebriated to notice her dismay, Snape jumped off the uncomfortable couch with the intention of showing her the door, but his infected leg couldn't bear his weight. He crumpled with an animalistic roar.

Rose slowly approached, her hands held out in a placating gesture. He wanted to scream that she was an idealistic fool for approaching a dangerous drunk unarmed, but his explosive rant had sucked away all his anger, leaving nothing but despair and guilty self-recriminations.

"What's wrong? Did something bad happen when you went to see Sirius?"

"Sirius is dead," he stated flatly before clamping his hand over his mouth. God, he was going to lose it if he weren't careful.

"What? Wait. No he's not. He can't be. Someone would have sent word."

Giving in to his roiling stomach, he spewed bile and half-digested alcohol all over his robes. Rose took a hasty step backwards. He didn't blame her for running. Covered in sick, he smelled vile. If he could have escaped from himself, he would.

"Dad? I mean, Professor? Professor Snape? Why did you say Sirius is dead? What happened?"

She hadn't run? Anger surged through the drunken wizard, giving his tongue a razor sharp edge. "The Sirius Black I knew is dead, you insufferable Gryffindor chit. But don't worry, he still loves his precious Rosie. I wish the two of you happiness when he strips me of the guardianship."

He vomited again, and this time she did run. He expected to feel satisfaction at his accomplishment, but all he felt was empty. Cold and empty, just like his heart.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Severus woke in his own bed. He knew this because the lovely scent of Narcissa's violet shampoo and jasmine perfume still clung to the pillow beside him. The mattress, however, felt unpleasantly firm. Taking stock of his body, he quickly realized that the mattress had nothing to do with it. His entire body ached, from his pounding head to his throbbing calf. Grunting in protest, he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

A very familiar chuckle shattered all thoughts of sleep. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes.

"Albus, to what do I owe the displeasure?"

While his mentor smiled, there was no accompanying twinkle in his piercing blue gaze. In fact, Severus thought he could detect a trace of worry, which was ludicrous because worry was the one thing the all-knowing Albus Dumbledore simply did not do.

"How much do you remember of the day prior, my boy?"

The day prior . . . . He pinched the bridge of his nose without encountering any twinge of pain. Abruptly, he remembered his disastrous visit to St. Mungo's and subsequent foray into the depths of at least two bottles of Firewhiskey.

"Rose." Ignoring his hangover, he tried to sit up, but surprisingly firm hands immediately pushed him down.

"Rose is at dinner. I insisted she dine in the Great Hall. Poppy has wrapped your leg with some healing poultices, but the burns are infected. She said it would take at least another twenty-four hours for you to return to your usual charming self."

Face flushing, he heard the admonishment in Dumbledore's gentle ribbing. Merlin, but he'd been an idiotic arse, and he'd taken most of his frustration out on the person he cared about the most—Rose. She must hate him.

"You needn't worry, Severus. Rose doesn't hate you. Quite the contrary, I had to pry her from your side. She only left when I promised to watch over you."

He might have suspected Legilimency, but he'd been looking at the Headmaster's wrinkled hands at the time. Unless Albus had perfected a method of delving into minds that no longer required eye contact, the old man must have guessed his thoughts.

"I hardly know why she would bother. I did everything I could to push her away."

"I'm sure she's already forgiven you. But, perhaps an apology might be in order?"

Apology, groveling, he'd do whatever it took to get back in her good graces. As Dumbledore stood to leave, however, he realized that he owed yet another apology.

"Headmaster, my conduct last night was inexcusable. I don't expect your forgiveness, however—"

He'd never seen such raw compassion on the old man's face. Interrupting, Dumbledore said quietly, "It is I who should apologize, Severus. I had no idea you and Sirius Black had grown so close. If I had, perhaps I could have helped you with your grief. I failed you yet again, my boy. I am relieved that Miss Potter discovered you before you could do yourself real harm."

Severus nodded mutely. The memory of the night he had tried to drink himself to death after Lily's murder hovered unspoken in the air between them. Merlin, did he never learn?

"Albus, I . . . ." He struggled to find the words, but in the end he didn't need to.

"I know, my boy, I know."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Drumming his fingers on his desk, Severus hoped he hadn't made yet another spectacular mistake. Perhaps giving Rose detention hadn't been the best way to arrange a meeting with her, but she'd made it near impossible to do anything else. Ever since he'd lashed out at her while drunk, she had been exceedingly polite and exceedingly distant, even after numerous heartfelt apologies. He didn't begrudge Rose her anger or disappointment, but it ate away at his stomach to the point that he could hardly stand the sight of food.

At ten after seven, he grudgingly acknowledged that he might have compounded the problem. Using Draco to sabotage her potion had been a mistake; the besotted Mr. Malfoy had only sunk lower in her estimation. Considering that most of her friends still hadn't forgiven her for insulting the Granger girl, he should be doing everything in his power to bring Draco and Rose together, not push them farther apart. And now she was tardy, which might be for legitimate reasons, or it could mean that she intended to defy him, both as a father and teacher. Damn, why couldn't he think these things through?

At half past seven, Rose skidded to a stop in front of the open doorway, red-faced and out of breath. "Sorry, sir. Professor McGonagall decided to hold mandatory dancing lessons. Uh, because of the dance and all."

He winced at her use of the word sir, but didn't comment on it. "I suspected as much," he lied with aplomb. "Minerva is partial to the waltz and never misses an opportunity to inflict it upon the younger generation."

The teen didn't smile, didn't crack the first joke about his ineptness at dancing. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed over her chest saying nothing. He had to fight an urge to babble just to fill the silence. When the quiet became unbearable, Rose walked over to the pile of dirty cauldrons and picked one up. Her presumption finally goaded him into speech.

"Put that back, Rose. We both know I have no intention of making you serve detention."

She returned the cauldron to the floor with an overly loud clunk. Her arms crossed over her chest once more, but this time, her hands balled into fists. Though anger wasn't the emotion he'd been hoping for, at least it was a chink in the impassive armor she'd put around herself since that night.

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit down, Rose. I'd like to talk."

"I think we've talked enough already, don't you, Professor?" She tempered her belligerence by sitting in the chair, although she kept her arms crossed.

"I have apologized, and will gladly do so again if that will make a difference. We have not, however, talked."

"I don't have much to say, Professor. I told you before I accept your apology. You don't have to repeat it."

"Stop acting like Ronald Weasley," he bellowed, shocking them both. Color rose in his cheeks, but he continued before she could react. "Apologies, again. I didn't mean to disparage Mr. Weasley's character. Since you are unwilling to engage in a discussion, I respectfully ask you to listen. Do not interrupt because this is difficult enough without repeating it. If, after hearing what I have to say, you wish to leave, I will not stop you. Understood?"

He ploughed on, fearful that any pause would give her the excuse to bolt.

"The Sirius Black I knew is dead, replaced by a man who hates me. I don't know how much he told you about his youth, but in addition to being your father's best friend, Black was a bully at school. His pranks, unlike the twins', were meant to humiliate the victim, and with Pettigrew, Lupin and Potter's help, he often succeeded. And, now that same man wants to take you away from me."

He held up his hand in a gesture to stop when she leaned forward in the chair. "I never believed you would agree to such a thing, but the Ministry will not take your opinion into consideration. Your parents named Black your godfather. If they get one whiff of the Dursleys' abuse, Petunia's guardianship will be voided. So, I hope you understand why I was so terrified of losing you that night. I realize pushing away the people I love is not a healthy coping mechanism, but it is a learned behavior that is difficult to break. I regret that—"

He let out a whoosh of air as her body collided with his chest. "I'm sorry too, Dad. I've been behaving like a complete prat. And, I'm sorry about Sirius; I really am. It's—"

"Not your fault," he resolutely exclaimed. "The only silver lining to any of this is that the attacker did not steal the last two years of your memory. I don't think I could have withstood your hatred as well."

"I'm proud of you, you know."

"Oh?" He certainly didn't think her pride warranted.

"Yeah," she answered with an impish grin. "You've been talking to Healer Wellby. Who else could get you to say coping mechanism and learned behavior in the same sentence?"

"Humph," he snorted, not yet comfortable discussing his recent therapy sessions with his former student. "Now, tell me of your week. I've missed our breakfasts together."

"Fred and George gathered up all the discarded _Potter Cheats_ and _Rotter Potter_ badges and charmed them to say _Potter's Hotter_. I told them both that if I saw even one of those badges, I'd tell their mother about their plans to open a joke shop. My bluff's worked so far."

"I thought you would have forgiven Molly by now."

"Isn't she the one who should apologize?"

"_I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry at my foe. I told it not, my wrath did grow_."

Rose gaped at him the way she had in the churchyard in Godric's Hallow, equal parts incredulity and incomprehension. He bit back a chuckle.

"William Blake. And if you tell anyone I have a weakness for Muggle poetry, I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons until your firstborn attends Hogwarts. Molly Weasley is your friend, Rose. Though incredibly insensitive in that damnable letter, she meant well. If you wait for her apology, your anger will only increase. It would be much easier to forgive her now."

Twirling the end of her braid on her index finger, she cheekily replied, "You're awfully good at giving advice."

"As opposed to taking it? The wisdom of age. Why do you think no one informed me of Miss Granger's Time Turner? I have many regrets."

"But you ended up with me. That's not so bad, is it?"

"No," he agreed, his face relaxing into a warm smile. "You are a treasure, Rose."

She blushed and he recalled the way the Dursleys had called her freak. Standing in front of her, he captured her eyes with his. "You, Rose Potter, are a treasure, not a burden. I only regret that I was too blinded by the past to take you from Petunia and her horrid family sooner."

Looking at her lap, she shrugged. "It's okay. It's not as if anyone else bothered."

"I am well aware of that," he stated gravely, kneeling so she would be forced to look at him. "Many people failed you, Rose. When you are ready to understand that, I hope you can forgive them as you have me."

When she twisted her bracelet so violently that it dug into her wrist, he dropped the subject. Pulling out a wrapped piece of dark chocolate, he tossed it to her.

"Thanks," she said as she unwrapped it an popped it into her mouth. He took her momentary distraction as an opportunity to return to his seat. By the time she had finished the entire bar, they'd both chosen to rebury the painful subject of her past. Rose, in fact, seemed eager to surprise him.

"I, uh, have a date to the Yule Ball."

Merlin, but that was quick. The ball had been announced that very day. "Oh? Shall I speak to Fred Weasley about the proper conduct expected of a gentleman?"

Her fingers flew to her bracelet. "Um, actually, Dad, I'm going with Neville. He asked me first and I said yes because I was afraid no one else would. Then Fred asked and I had to turn him down. I thought that would be the worst of it. But then Lee asked, which was sweet because he still feels guilty for Stunning me, and Colin Creevey, which was just . . . ugh, embarrassing, I guess. Blaise Zabini cornered me before dinner tonight, but he begged me to say no, muttering something about his grandmother and a trust fund? Seven boys from Durmstrang and three from Beauxbatons have asked. I politely turned them down. Even Cedric Diggory asked me, but I think he only did it to make Cho Chang jealous."

He stared at Rose, not quite knowing what to make of her sudden popularity. Certainly, some of the attention hinged on the fact that she was the Hogwarts Champion in the TriWizard Tournament. But, the rest . . . he scrutinized his ward, seeing for the first time what he had been more than happy to overlook.

Since the summer, she'd taken much more interest in her hair. Gone was the untidy mess and in its place was a sleek, elegant braid trailing down her back. Her eyes were a brilliant green, just like Lily's, although her darker hair enhanced the gemlike facets of her irises to make them truly captivating. Her skin, unlike the unfortunate Millicent Bullstrode's, was smooth and clear, her complexion fair but not pale enough to be described as porcelain. Her high cheekbones were well-defined, her nose unobtrusive. Her chin was a trifle sharp, but it gave her face extra character. She jogged around the lake at least five times a week, so she was definitely fit under her loose robes. And, after seeing her in a swimming suit during the summer, he knew she had a few curves, much to his chagrin. Because of the malnourishment of her early childhood, she'd never be as tall as Lily, but she had grown several inches in the last year and couldn't be called short. All in all, she was a beautiful young witch who naturally attracted the attention of the opposite sex. No wonder so many had asked her to the ball.

"You know you're staring."

"Simply wondering how many suitors I shall be forced to hex."

"Right, because you're planning on marrying me off at fourteen?"

He snorted at her foolishness. "Be glad I approve of Mr. Longbottom."

Her eyes widened to house-elf proportions. "You like Neville? Merlin, I'd hate to see how you treat someone you don't like."

"He's grown on me."

She raised a single eyebrow in exact imitation of him. "Like a fungus."

"Just so."

It took every ounce of willpower to maintain his solemn façade rather than burst into laughter. Merlin, but he had missed her.


End file.
